


Too Good

by Zzzara



Series: Fools [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Partners, Auror Ron Weasley, Auror Training, Based On a Troye Sivan Song, Bisexual Harry Potter, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Cheating, Denial, Denial of Feelings, Draco being Draco, Drarry, Dubious Consent, Emotional, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Roller Coaster, Emotional Sex, Emotionally Repressed, Emotions, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time Topping, Good Narcissa Black Malfoy, Harry Potter in Denial, Hurt, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Infidelity, Internalized Homophobia, Lust, M/M, Narcissa is an amazing Mum, Oblivious Harry Potter, Office Sex, POV Draco Malfoy, POV First Person, POV Harry Potter, Pining, Pining Draco Malfoy, Possessive Harry Potter, Powerful Harry Potter, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Ron is great, Secret Relationship, TOO GOOD, Too Good Troye, Top Harry Potter, Troye, Troye Sivan Song inspired, all Troye's songs are Drarry AF, pov switching, troye sivan - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-26 00:58:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15652527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zzzara/pseuds/Zzzara
Summary: Scared my love, you'll goSpend my love, heart brokeSo my love, don't show...I take a sip, wait 'til it hitsThis liquid guilt is on my lipsI'm wasted on youWe are standing in the long silence, only the two of us in the middle of the descending cabin. I mean the three of us: he, I and the image of his woman, whose impending arrival turns me into nobody in a blink of an eye.





	Too Good

**Author's Note:**

> ***** !!!!! WARNINGS: This fic deals with infidelity and contains the elements of dubious consent !!!!! *****
> 
> The general idea for this story I acquired having watched the German film 'Freier Fall' (Free fall).  
> This work belongs to the series "Fools" and is followed by the work "Talk Me Down".  
> Beginning writing this series, I intended to deliver how damaging can be when the third person sneaks into the relationship of the two; damaging for each party if one of the participants lacks the courage to be honest with their partner, with their lover and with themselves, and how much pain and suffering it can cause.  
> The mood and the title are borrowed from Troye Sivan's song "Too Good", which has also been an inspiration for writing this fic [Troye is my never ceasing inspiration and I strongly recommend to listen to the song before reading this fic - it would give you a feeling of immersion :) ].  
> I wanted to deliver that heavy heartbreaking mood of the song - this pining, hurting, brooding and emotionally charged atmosphere. So this story has been emotionally overwhelming at times for me to live through and it shows, I suppose :)  
> This story also contains a brief reference to the lyrics of Troye's song 'Bloom".
> 
> As you probably noticed, my personal image of Draco's appearance strongly tends towards blond Troye Sivan (a bit burlier perhaps though :))). You can safely say that Draco at the disco and in Harry's dreams is 100% Troye's image in makeup and fancy clothes.
> 
> *it seems a summary including credits for Troye is firmly stuck with me for the time being... but what can I do? He is so talented and I love him so much, and all his songs so incredibly Drarry! I simply cannot stay away from his songs and not transmit them into Drarry-fics.*
> 
> Also the story contains a reference to my own personal taste in wine - red Chilean Carmenere variety and white New Zealand Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc - are the ones of my absolute favourites. And somehow it feels that Harry is the Carmenere-type, and Draco is a crisp-Sauvignon lover :)
> 
> The dates and the days of the week marking this story are the actual 2005 calendar.
> 
> English is not my native language and I don't have a beta, so forgive me all the mistakes.
> 
>  
> 
> [Disclaimer: all characters belong to J.K. Rowling; here I don't make any profit whatsoever; I write for my own entertainment.]

**Too Good**

**I**

_12, Grimmauld Place, London_

_Friday, 13 May, 2005_

"Harry?"

I cease tiptoeing around the bed.

"Hi, Gin."

Sitting down by her side, I lean in to touch my lips to her temple. She smells of sleepiness and warmth, the familiar delicate scent of her hair soothes and anchors me, and _oh I need it right now._

She turns to face me. "You are back early." She trails her fingertips up my forearm. "Didn't expect you until tomorrow." The moonlight gives an ethereal look to her face, she is smiling.

I lean down. "Aren't you glad I came?"

"Of course I am." She chuckles. "But... has something happened?"

"No, nothing. It's just the program is done. I didn't want to be stuck there for another Team Night Out. I missed you." I breathe into her neck, grazing the delicate skin with my lips.

I missed her, I missed her so badly. If she were there with me, nothing would have happened.

Well...

Nothing's _actually_ happened anyway, so...

I tug the blanket down, revealing her small breasts. She sleeps naked, I love it about her. I picked that habit from her. I touch my tongue to her nipple, feeling the flesh hardening. She runs her fingers through my hair.

"Give me a second." I whisper into her skin. "I need a shower, I'm smelly."

"I love you smelly." She kicks the blanket off. "Come here."

I'm pulling the T-shirt over my head, tugging my joggers down. I'd rather be content with some cuddling at the moment, to be honest. But the other part of me - the anxious part, the one that needs to prove the point - is eager to go with it, to lose myself in her, like a man - in a woman. Because I am a man, and she is a woman, and this is essential, and this is how it should be.

She is arching beneath me as I am burying myself into her body. It feels right and familiar, and the _thing_ that has been bothering me seems so insignificant that I almost forget about it.

 _Almost_.

**

_Auror DMLE Training Centre, near Edinburgh_

_9-13 May, 2005_

"Maloney!"

"Here!"

"Odenpourt!"

"Here!"

I prop my chin on my hand, preparing myself for another half an hour of boredom. This roll call is a ridiculous waste of time. Why do they even bother?

"Partridge!"

"Here!"

"Potter!"

My head snaps up.

I look around, scanning the crowd of faces behind me. There are about two hundred people here, it is hard to find anyone in particular, unless you know where to look.

"Here!" Comes somewhere from above. I turn in my seat. No, I can’t discern a person who has spoken. Well, Potter is a common enough name, isn't it?

"Weasley!"

_No such luck._

"Here!"

"Alright, London Unit is fully present. Moving on to Edinburgh," the coach says.

Okay. In a few minutes Potter will discover my presence. It's not like I give a fuck.

Not turning around, I raise my hand when _"Malfoy!"_ is being called. “Here!”

I bet the bastard is surprised. I don't give a fuck. And yet... I feel that itch between my shoulder blades, the urge to turn around and give a _look_. I know he's staring. I'm not about to give him the satisfaction. I've grown out of that teenage Potter-idiocy long ago. The only appropriate option for me now is to ignore the bastard completely. Pull your shit together, Sergeant Malfoy.

**

As it turns out, Potter is not that easy to ignore. Our Units are paired up for the duelling session, and when I enter the training area, the first thing I see is _Potter._ The session hasn't begun yet, but _of course_ he’s already right in the middle. Spells are erupting from the tip of his wand in a blur of the coloured sparks as he turns around on the spot, throwing his left arm in a wide arc above his head, the shimmering sphere of his Shield Charm covering him in a silvery-white mist. _Fuck_ . He is alone against _seven_ of them. One by one, they fall under his Stunners. The last man hits the floor and silence falls for a brief moment, only to be replaced with a violent applause that erupts all around the room. Potter is grinning sheepishly, dissolving his Shield with a wave of his hand. Giving an awkward bow, he begins to cast Ennervate on his fallen fellow teammates. They are rising on their feet, shaking hands with him.

"Alright there?" Potter asks again and again, clapping them on the shoulders.

I follow him with my eyes. The one thing that never ceases to impress me is a display of power, I must admit.

"Oh, he's _good_ ," Juliet says by my side, "and hot as fuck, don't you think?"

"What are you talking about?" I roll my eyes. Juliet is the only one at work who knows I'm gay.

"Now, thank you, Mr. Potter, for this outstanding performance," the coach, says, "do catch your breath, we are about to begin."

Potter nods, turning in my direction, and I hastily turn away to look at Juliet. I don't want to acknowledge him.

The coach - Mr. Abbot - sets the rules: we duel in pairs; the loser is left out, the winner proceeds with another partner and so on, until the only one is left. I start with Juliet, keeping to my teammates.

At the end of the session there is only Potter left of his team, and I am the best of our Edinburgh Unit. Everyone else is out. We have to confront each other, there's no help to that.

Keeping a neutral expression, I step forward.

"Malfoy." His voice is flat.

Looking above his left shoulder, I give a curt bow and without any warning strike with a modified non-verbal Stinging Hex. He deflects it wandlessly with a flick of his left hand, attacking me with the wand in his right one. He is using them both, the bastard. I barely manage to keep up, throwing one Shielding Charm after another against his vicious attack. However hard I may try to convince myself otherwise, this is personal between us. Always has been, always will be. Ire is rising in me, I've almost forgotten how I hate the bastard. _Almost._ I duck and turn on the spot and dive, sending hexes in his direction. I may lack his power, but he lacks subtlety. He is wild and rough and obvious. He lacks intrigue, but I guess he simply doesn't need it with _that_ amount of sheer magical force. If not overpower, I must outsmart him. Adrenaline is coursing through me, as I am deflecting his spells. I feel my Shield is wavering under his assault. Judging by a small smile that is tugging at his lips, he's noticed it, too. _This is it._ My Shield dissolves, and I receive the full blow of his Stunner into my chest. Or so he thinks. Because the Shield is holding, as long as I’m willing it to. I hit the floor, landing on my back and lie still. He has to buy it, _he has to._ The sound of his footsteps is drowning in applause around the room. My eyes are closed, I hold my breath.

"Brilliant, Mr.Potter!" Mr. Abbot barks over the noise. "Now, do Ennervate Mr. Malfoy and shake hands. He is the second best today."

_Second best my arse._

When Potter's footsteps stop in front of me, I peer through my eyelashes, making out the outline of his legs. Not thinking twice, I swiftly hook my ankle under his calf, making him fall back, and spring on my feet. Cheers among the crowd turn into exclamations of surprise and outrage. When he hits the floor, I already straddle him, pinning his right wrist above his head, and press the tip of my wand into the base of his throat.

"Drop you wand, Potter."

He opens his fist, and the wand clatters against the stone.

"As you wish, Malfoy."

He grabs my wand with his free hand, wrenching it out of my grip, and throws it away. The next moment our positions are reversed: he is straddling me. "I don't need a wand to punch you in the face." His voice is low and measured, and something stirs in me.

I don’t need a wand to punch him either. I wriggle under him, trying to throw him off, but he pins me down with his whole body, breathing me in the face. Only now I realise he is not wearing glasses.

"Release me, Potter," I hiss. But at my attempt at kicking, he only presses me harder into the floor. "Or do you like it? This _frotting_ ?" I buck my hips up into his crotch and his eyes go wide in shock. _Aha!_  

" _My, my,_ Potter. I bet you like it." I lean up, pressing my lips briefly to his, and he bolts out, springing on his feet.

"Fuck you!" His face is red and his voice wavers.

I grin up at him from the floor, stretching my arms above my head. " _Fuck me?_ No such luck for you, Potter, but a man can dream." I lower my voice, wiggling my eyebrows at him.

"You are sick," he spits.

My, my... I've hurt his homophobic sensibilities, which is not a bad start for the first day, I'd say.

"Gentlemen? What's going on?" Mr. Abbot is approaching. We are in the farthest area of the training space, away from others; hardly anyone could have delved into our little exchange.

"Everything is alright." I rise on my feet. "We've sorted out our differences with Mr. Potter."

"Everything is fine," Potter says, not looking at me. He bends down to pick his wand up off the floor and leaves.

**

Next morning, after the workout, I am ogling Potter shamelessly in the Gym showers. I am rinsing shampoo out of my hair with my face to him. I want to make him uncomfortable, I want him to cringe and die of embarrassment right here on the spot. Judging by his looks, he is about to. He's turned his back to me, very busy soaping himself up and quietly freaking out. In the room full of people this is all he can do. I watch as a rivulet of soapy water is sliding down Potter's back, right into the cleft of his arse. I might dislike the prat, but I am not blind: Potter looks good enough to eat. My gaze travels down his thighs, to the shaped calves dusted with coarse black hairs, and up again to where the tanned skin of his waist and back stands in a contrast to the pale buttocks. If it weren't Potter, I would like to know how his skin feels to the touch. I would want to come up from behind and slide my hands around his hips to feel his cock harden under my palm. _Oh, stop it_ . I tear my gaze away from Potter's backside only to land it on Weasley next to him and avert my eyes quickly. I have no desire to ogle his freckled arse. _Meh._

**

"What's your problem, Malfoy?" Potter catches up with me at our evening jogging session on the third day.

I say nothing. I’m not going to break the rhythm of my breathing; the fall of our feet hitting the ground is the only sound in the dim forest.

"Malfoy?"

 _Damn._ "What?"

"What's your problem?"

"What problem?"

"You know what."

"Oh, do I?" I'm not going to make it easy for him. He _has to_ spell it out.

He grabs my arm, making us both stop.

"What do you want Potter?"

Our breath is laboured.

"Stay away from me. I want you to leave me the fuck alone."

"Leave you?" I laugh. "Now, who's stalking me in the forest?"

"Alright, mate?" Weasley is approaching.

"It's fine, Ron. Just... go, I'll catch up."

"Alright..." Not slowing down, Weasley throws me a look over his shoulder. Once he's disappeared around the bushes, Potter grabs me by the arm, dragging me off the path. "We need to talk."

My first urge is to kick him, but I reconsider, following him among the trees. Now, isn't it the perfect moment to get under his skin?

" _My, my,_ Potter." I smirk. "So eager, _are we?_ "

He whirls around. "Oh, fucking _stop_ it!"

He is still holding me by the arm. "Stop _what?_ " I whisper breathily, leaning into him. He bolts out, dropping my arm, his face goes red. He is hilarious.

"Are you insane?" He shouts. "Are you... are you _bent_ or taking the piss? Or _what?!"_

"I _am_." I grin, taking a step towards him.

He steps back. "What?"

"Bent." I take another step. His eyes go wide, he stops.

" _And_ taking the piss." I finish, coming up so close to him that our noses are almost touching. I am taller - just so, barely an inch, but still. I'm glad.

I walk him backwards until his back hits a tree trunk. When I put my hands on his shoulders and lean in, almost brushing my lips against his in a mock kiss, I expect him to punch me, or throw me off, or swear, whatever... But he stills. His eyes close, his chin tilts up... and I am suddenly aware of his erection against my hip.

_Wait, what?_

I push myself off him and step back.

"Potter?" A laugh escapes me.

Face horrified, he snaps out of the daze. _I can’t_ ... This is brilliant! I am laughing so hard that my eyes are watering and my stomach aches. Wiping my eyes, I gesture at the front of his joggers, obscenely tented forward. " _Really_ , Potter?!"

Not saying a word, he brushes past me, breaking into the run. In mere seconds the fall of his footsteps dies down in the distance.

**

I am in the middle of the forest and it’s barely past midnight. My last mission of the training program has begun an hour ago. I've arrived at the spot according to the coordinates in the task. I've checked the area for human presence, revealing nothing. I've been about to meet my randomly assigned partner who is bound to reach this spot from the opposite end of the forest, and everything has been going just fine so far. Until Potter stepped onto the moonlit clearing.

_Oh, come on..._

This isn't funny. Not even for me. Now I'm stuck with the bastard for two hours, probably even risking to fail my test. We are supposed to _actively cooperate_. Shit.

Potter had been avoiding me yesterday, turning away each time when he noticed me. Isn't it what I aimed for? I'd managed to embarrass the bastard to the point that he freaks out when I merely look in his direction. Now I've fallen into my own trap.

Curios, I watched Potter whenever I had the opportunity. During our duel Potter had revealed himself in an entirely new light. To notice that he is ridiculously attractive, knowing he's straight, is a one thing, but _now..._ Well, it's another matter.

"Malfoy. Fuck, _no..."_

"Nice to see you, too, Potter." I approach him. "Alas, we are bound to spend the night together, so..."

He cringes. "Look, Malfoy..."

"Relax, Potter, okay? I won't bite, or... whatever. Why we just don’t complete our mission and that's it?"

We are moving through the woods to our destination: the point at the forest's edge on the other side, where the coach is waiting. We have to cross the woods, finding our way in the dark in less than two hours - without magic - if we want to pass this test. Potter is silent, grimly looking ahead. He hasn't uttered a single word since we met.

"Potter?"

" _What?_ " He turns to me.

"Do you..."

"You know what? I don't want to deal with your shit at the moment."

"Actually, I've been going to ask where are your glasses. But now I feel like living up to your expectations." I smirk.

"I wear contacts," he says warily, "just shut up, Malfoy, okay? We have a mission to complete." He resumes walking.

"So rude, Potter. And I haven't done anything yet. Seemed you liked it better when I pressed you into a tree."

At that he whirls around, grabbing the front of my hoody. "I'll fucking show you the tree," he hisses, shoving me backwards, until I'm trapped between him and a tree-trunk, "What _the fuck_ do you want from me?"

Although he is not taller than I, it feels like he is looming over me. I am a bit intimidated, I must admit. I know, I shouldn't pull on his nerves, I think I've already gone too far, but as it's always been with Potter, I am unable to stop. I haven't grown up, not at all.

"What do _you_ want, Potter, that’s the question."

The air is charged. I think if I reached out to touch, I'd feel the angry thrum of magic under his skin. I know I'll regret it. So I do it anyway. When my palm lands at the side of his neck, he goes completely still, not releasing the grip of his hand at my front. I curl my fingers around his nape and pull him closer to meet his lips. He doesn't resist. When I kiss him, his mouth doesn’t respond, he is standing completely still, as though afraid to breathe. I move my lips against his, and when my tongue touches his lower lip, to my astonishment he exhales, opening his mouth... and – _Oh, Merlin_ \- he kisses back once, twice... _He is kissing back!_ I feel his hand travels up to grip my shoulder. I press into him and feel his erection against my leg. I slide my hand into his joggers to cup his cock through the underwear. He yelps, trying to back his hips away. I squeeze the bulge gently. He is hard under my touch.

" _Shhh..._ it's okay," I whisper, finding the waistband of his pants and dipping my hand underneath.

"Malfoy..." He whimpers.

"Shhh... It's okay." I repeat against his lips. Turning us around, I press his back to the tree, wrapping my palm around his cock. He doesn't resist. His length in my hand is thick and hot. I give it a stroke, and his breath catches. I begin wanking him in steady rhythm, capturing his lips again, opening them up with my tongue.

"Malfoy... we shouldn't..." He utters over the ragged breath, turning his face away. But his neck is arching, and his hand is gathering the fabric on my back into fist.

"Oh, but we _should_ ," I whisper into his ear, speeding up my hand on his cock. I’m hard, I want to touch myself. I am determined to bring him off first.

" _Oh..._ " His mouth falls open as he arches against me.

"Yeah... this is it." I squeeze his arse with my other hand. I want to see his face when he comes. His eyes are squeezed shut. He thrusts into my palm a few times, and I feel the trembling of his stomach, the pulsing of his cock in my hand.

He comes silently, biting down at his lower lip.

We stay still for a second, and then he bolts out, shoving me away. Shaking his head, he stares at me in horror, as I raise my right hand coated with his spunk. His eyes are wild. Without saying a word, he adjusts his trousers and Apparates away.

**

**II**

_12, Grimmauld Place, London_

_Friday, 13 May, 2005_

"Harry?!"

Having just dozed off, I snap up awake again, disoriented.

"Harry, what the hell?" Ron's voice says in my ear. "Where are you?" His terrier Patronus is illuminating the room with a silvery glow.

Gingerly, I pull my arm out from under Ginny's head and slip out of the bed, tiptoeing to the corridor. I close the bedroom door silently behind me. Seeping through the wall, Patronus follows.

"Is everything alright, mate? Malfoy has returned alone. He says you've left in the middle of the mission. I don't know if he could be trusted."

 _Fuck._ I run my palm over my face.

"Contact me, okay?" Patronus begins to dissolve.

I have to reply, otherwise Ron will barge in, waking Ginny. What the fuck one is supposed to say in a situation like this?

I wave my hand and concentrate, channeling my thoughts, forming the words out of them, while the Stag is waiting before me.

"I'm home, Ron. I'm fine. Just had to leave. I'll explain tomorrow." Hoping this will do, I wave my hand, and the Stag pounces, dissolving through the wall.

 _Fuck._ I need a shower. Quietly I enter the bathroom, turning the light on, and look at myself in the mirror. What the fuck had happened? I look down at my limp cock, and the memories of Malfoy's hot breathing in my ear, the feeling of his hand stroking me, come unbidden. I have no idea what to think... I am disgusted, I suppose, as I should be... But my cock is already hardening. _Fuck._ I press the heel of my hand to the base to stifle the arousal. To no avail. Swearing, I wash my hands and begin to remove my contacts. One, then the other, putting them into the container. My vision goes blurry, which is a relief of sorts, 'cause I'd rather not look myself in the face right now.

I step into the shower stall and turn the tap on. Scalding water hits my skin, making me hiss. I don't make it cooler. I feel like I need it right now to wash Malfoy's dirty touch off my body.

I look down: my cock is bobbing in front of me, fully erect. I couldn't come with Ginny tonight, as though something held me back... Now _this._ What the fuck? I take it in my hand and begin stroking. With my eyes closed, I try to imagine Ginny's thighs spreading open as I enter her, try to picture her lovely breasts that fit perfectly into my palms... But my mind is stubbornly supplying me with the feeling of Malfoy's lips, of his tongue slipping into my mouth, of the vision of his firm round arse I saw in the showers, of his shaped arms and lean muscular stomach narrowing down to the hips, where the rivulets of soapy water were sluicing down through sandy hair of his groin, leaking onto the floor from his half-hard cock. To my dismay, I actually _looked_ and noticed all this. The pleasure is rippling at the base of my cock...

 _Shhh... it’s okay...this is it_ , Malfoy whispers in my mind, as though giving me permission, and I come, biting into my lip to stifle a sound, shooting spunk over the tiles in front of me. I press my forehead into the wall, watching dumbly as water is washing everything off in a blur. I feel sick.

**

_DMLE, the Ministry of Magic, London_

_Monday, 16 May, 2005_

"What’s this all about, Harry? You know you'd failed your test, right?"

It is Monday, nine o'clock in the morning. We are crossing the Atrium on our way to the lifts.

Oh, why wouldn't he just leave me alone? I have no explanation for this. Not the one that would sit well with Ron, anyway.

The week-end passed in a blur. We barely left the bed with Ginny. She's always insatiable after her two-week absence of training for the Holyhead Harpies. Though I've been a bit out of my depth on Friday night, these two days with her proved us to be just fine. Although this morning I'm sort of exhausted and sleep-deprived, I'm glad, I'm good; we are good; everything is alright. Whatever the fuck it was with Malfoy - it doesn't matter. I’ll never see him again. I'm back to normal.

"I know, Ron," I say casually, "it's just..."

"What?"

Well, the best lie is the one that contains the truth, isn't it?

"It's Malfoy... I mean... we fought. You know the bastard."

"You mean... you fought with Malfoy on the _mission?_ Come on, Harry... are you serious?"

"Yep."

"You'd fucked up your test at the very last task - to... what?.. punch Malfoy in the face? You are what, _twelve?"_ He sounds incredulous.

"Not like that...but - sort of. Yeah," I mumble, "you know Malfoy. How shitty the bastard can be."

Ron looks at me oddly. "And it is you who had run away... and he'd completed the mission alone and passed the test."

"Oh, come on, Ron. Just drop it, okay? I've had enough of Malfoy for the time being."

Entering the Auror Office, we are a bit late, and everyone is gathered in the main area, surrounding Robards, who's giving a sort of speech or something. We approach hastily, joining the group at the very back, trying not to draw attention.

"... and, ladies and gentlemen, I hope I can count on your hospitality and team spirit, to welcome him and help him become a real member of our team as soon as possible. As the one of the best Aurors of the Edinburgh Auror Forces, I have no doubt Sergeant Malfoy is a good addition to our Auror Office."

_What?_

I move to the side, peering through the crowd, and go cold.

There, in the middle, right beside Robards, Malfoy is standing in a full Auror uniform, nodding politely with a neutral expression on his face.

"What the actual fuck?" Ron says beside me, not at all trying to be quiet. People turn. Robards and Malfoy stare in our direction.

"Everyone is dismissed!" Robards sets his jaw. "Except for Potter and Weasley."

People are shuffling around.

"My office." Robards barks, turning on the spot, and heads down the corridor. Malfoy throws me a _look_ and follows him. _Damn._

"Ron, keep your mouth shut next time, will you?" I hiss, heading in their wake.

"Now, gentlemen." Robards is seated in his armchair, leaving the three of us to stand before his desk. "I have two things to say to you. Three things, actually."

We exchange uneasy glances with Ron. Whatever it is, I can already tell, I'm not going to like it. Malfoy is staring ahead.

"First. Sergeant Malfoy has been transferred to the London Auror Forces at the special request of the Auror Office. Second. He is to fill the vacancy in the Unit A-7, aka your team, Weasley. And I strongly count on your cooperation as the Leading Auror. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Sir." Ron nods curtly, and then risks to glance in my direction, his expression utterly horrified.

I feel ill. You have no idea, Ron. _No idea._

"Good. Which brings us to the number three. And here I address both of you, Potter and Weasley. But especially you Potter. Any discrimination, any mistreatment of a fellow officer in the Auror Forces shall _not_ be tolerated, bearing severe consequences. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Sir," I and Ron say simultaneously. This is fucked up.

"Good. Sergeant Malfoy proved himself to be a highly competent and professional member of the Edinburgh Auror Forces. I am sure, we all are to gain from his transfer here. Sergeant Malfoy is your assigned partner from now on, Potter, filling the vacancy that has been standing for too long now. Weasley, your temporary unofficial partnership with Potter is over, you are to concentrate on your Lead Auror duties. Is everything clear?"

"Yes, Sir." The three of us nod.

"Excellent. You are dismissed."

I head to the door first with Ron at my heels, Malfoy following us. In the corridor we stop abruptly, causing him to bump into us.

"Fuck!" I throw my palms in the air. "I can't _believe_ this is happening."

" _Language_ Potter, in front of your _fellow officer_ ," Malfoy snaps. I look him square in the face for the first time since that forest three days ago. His jaw is set, his expression stony. He is obviously not happy about our predicament either, but do I give a fuck?

"Come on, let's not make it worse." Ron tugs at my sleeve, beginning to walk, and I follow. Malfoy trails behind.

When we reach our end of the corridor, Ron stops. "So... Malfoy. Here's the office you share with Harry now.” He gestures at the door of my room, his tone flatly neutral. "I am the leader of the team - Unit A-7. There are ten of us. Eleven now, that you've joined. Five pairs and I. Any questions that may occur or the situations that may arise inside the team are my responsibility. So you should address me whenever need be." There is no a hint of awkwardness in Ron's tone. He's switched into his professional mode. He's a good leader. Far better than I would ever be, I must admit.

"Okay, Weasley, thanks," Malfoy says stiffly.

"No problem. You should take a look at your office, I suppose." Ron points at the door. "And... Harry, I think you should take some stuff of yours from my room, come on."

"Okay." I'm glad to escape Malfoy, if only for another few minutes.

As we retreating to Ron's office, I hear the click of the door closed shut.

"Now tell me, what's your problem with Malfoy?" Ron asks, closing the door.

"Nothing," I reply probably too quickly.

"Nothing my arse. Come on, Harry. I don't need that shit on the team. What's happened on the mission?"

Even if I told him, he wouldn't believe me.

"We fought," I say, "that's it."

"Why?"

"Oh, come on… did I ever need a reason to punch Malfoy?" I laugh.

"No, you didn't, but..." He gives me a calculating look. "No matter what, you never ran from him either. Now you back out of the task just because _you fought_? What is this all about?"

Ron is too shrewd for his own good these days.

"Merlin, it's nothing, Ron, I swear! He pissed me off, wouldn't keep his mouth shut. I punched him, he punched me. You know how it goes." I'm not a very good liar, especially when it comes to my friends, but I'm trying.

"Okay... if you say so." He doesn't believe me. "Now listen, Harry. We don't want any shit to happen on the team, okay? Robards says Malfoy's Edinburgh record is immaculate. So just calm down, okay? Don't provoke him. And if he'll be giving you shit, just let me know, we'll deal with it through official procedure."

"Okay," I say. I know that whatever happens with Malfoy, I'm not about to inform Ron. I am relieved that he drops the subject. "I think I should go."  

When I enter my office, Malfoy is nowhere to be seen. Good. I observe his part of the room which is standing out in a stark contrast to my usual mess. File-folders line the shelves, sorted neatly by colour into the rainbow-pattern. The desk is absolutely empty, save for the lamp and a photo-frame. I approach, picking it up. It is Narcissa Malfoy - very young and outstandingly beautiful. She is standing by a rose bush with shears in her hand. She cuts a large white bud and turns to the camera, offering the flower to whomever was taking the picture, and _smiles_. The smile is so bright and unabashed, not only her lips are smiling but her eyes, her whole face, her whole being. I can't tear my eyes away, I am watching the motion on repeat again and again - just to see that smile blooming once more, and once more after that. It suddenly strikes me that Malfoy looks very much like his mother: that same face, eyes, manner. Although I've never seen Malfoy smiling like that, I absolutely find him in that smile. I see his face, his eyes blooming with joy, the curve of his lips, as though unable to keep its composure, transforming into this image of radiance...

"Potter."

I jump, nearly dropping the photograph. I put it carefully down.

"Prying into my private things, are we?" Malfoy is standing in the doorway, holding two large coffee paper cups.

"No... I mean... I've just been looking at you mother's photograph." My face burning, I head to my desk. "There's no harm in that. She is beautiful."

"Yes, she is." He approaches. I sit down at my desk, beginning rummaging through the stacks of papers, determinedly not looking at him.

"No harm," he says above me, and I look up. I haven't heard him approaching this close. "Here, I brought you this." He puts the paper cup down at the table in front of me.

"Er... Thanks?" I utter cleverly.

"Come on, to our new partnership, cheers!" He touches his cup to mine. I stare at him dumbly, it's all I can do at the moment.

"Relax, Potter. I'm not going to bite."

"You said the same in the forest, and look how it had turned out," I blurt. I don't know why I say this, I feel like I probably shouldn’t, but... I'm done with him being this unpredictable.

"Yeah, you are right." He laughs.

"I mean... once you are hostile, then you grope me, then you bring me coffee. What the fuck am I supposed to think?!"

"Maybe that you are not _as_ straight, as you used to think?" He smirks.

"I'm not talking about _me_ , Malfoy. Just stop it, will you?"

He perches at the edge of my desk. "Stop what?"

I take a breath. "Stop harassing me. That's what you are doing."

"Do you actually want me to stop?" He props his weight on his hand against the desk, dangling one foot in the air up and down, _up and down,_ making the desk shake. "Or do you just feel like it's an appropriate thing to say?"

"Oh, stop it!" I snap. "Stop shaking the desk, I'm working."

"Is this all you want me to stop?" He smirks.

_Honestly..._

"No! Fucking _no_ !" I shout. He flinches but doesn't look away. "I want you to stop hitting on me. I want you to leave me _alone_." Grabbing my coffee, I spring on my feet. "Do I make myself clear, Malfoy? ’Cause I don't know how else to spell it out for you. You make me sick."

He narrows his eyes and looks away. "Sick?"

"Sick." I confirm. "I'm not gay." I add and cringe, instantly regretting it. That sounds just dumb, as though I'm justifying myself to him.

"You are not?" His eyebrows shoot upwards. "I _see..."_

"No, I'm not." I am pacing the room with a paper cup in my hand.

"Is it my person that makes you sick, or the fact that I'm a man?" He asks, taking a sip of his coffee. "Really, Potter, I'm curious."

"Both, I suppose." I stop pacing to look at him. He is leaning against my desk with his legs crossed. The severe dark-blue Auror uniform fits him perfectly, drawing eyes to his broad shoulders and trim waist, bringing out his pale complection and blond hair which he wears in casual disarray of short strands. I shake myself. I'm not supposed to _notice_ all this, and it's - Malfoy. I mean... I hate him, right?

"Alright." He pushes himself off the desk. "No big deal." He takes a step in my direction, making me flinch. Coming up close, he takes the paper cup out of my hand. "I get it. But... just in case, Potter, if you change your mind - as to my person or men in general - you can always talk to me about it." He takes a sip of my coffee, handing the cup back to me.

I am so embarrassed, I can't come up with anything to reply to that. "Why are you here, Malfoy?" I blurt just to fill the silence. "Why that transfer all of a sudden?"

"It's not _sudden_ ," he says, heading to his desk, "it's been in motion for months. This process, I mean. I've been offered the London vacancy two months ago. I had no idea I would end up here with you."

The door bangs open, revealing Robards with Ron in tow.

"How does it go, gentlemen?" Robards asks, looking around the office.

"Everything is all right, Sir" Malfoy replies.

"Potter?" Robards looks at me.

"All right, Sir," I repeat.

"Good. Just passing by and I’ve thought I would take a look how you are doing here. Now, Weasley, do inform them as to their task for today."

**

I sit down at the kitchen table and exhale. The house is quiet without Gin. She's gone for the training with Holyhead Harpies, and I am on my own for two weeks. It's a usual thing - the cycle of her two-week absence from home once the season is about to begin.

It's half past six in the evening, and I don't know what to do with myself. I open the fridge and peer inside. No, I'm not hungry. I close the door. I'm restless, itchy, anxious I don't know why. Opening the cupboard, I retrieve a bottle of wine. Red. Chilean Carmenere. Will do. I take the glass, pouring myself probably more than is due.

The wine's spicy dryness is hot on my palate. It's good. Taking the bottle and the glass, I head to the living room to lounge on the sofa. I finish the glass quickly, pouring myself some more. I'm not much of a drinker and it quickly goes to my head, making my mind drift. Predictably, it's drifting to Malfoy. When I'd been leaving the office at six, he was still at his desk, studying the papers of our new case.

"See you, Potter," he said, not raising his head.

After I told him to fuck off this morning, surprisingly, he let me be. We were sent out for the investigation to the Diagon Alley, and since then we hadn't exchanged a single word not relating to the case. It had worked out just fine, I must admit.

Finding my glass empty, I pour myself some more.

 _If you change your mind as to my person or men in general_ \- his words are spinning in my dizzy mind.

I look at the clock above the mantle. Seven. I stand up. He may not be there even.

 _Oh, Merlin._ What I'm getting myself into?

Hoping I'm not too drunk to Apparate, I put the glass down on the coffee table and concentrate.

I land in the corridor in front of Ron's office - I've missed a bit - but in one piece, thank Merlin. I shouldn't do this, I shouldn't even be able to Apparate into the Ministry, but I am, so what?

Stopping in front of my office door, I run my hands through my hair, trying to smooth it back, and take a deep breath. My heart is racing. Right. I put my hand on the door handle and press.

When I open the door, Malfoy is at his desk, exactly as I’d left him. Well, not exactly: he's reclining in his chair, propping his feet on the desk on top of the disarray of papers. He is in a white shirt with his sleeves rolled up, his uniform jacket hanging at the back of the chair. Turning to the sound of the door, he flinches. In silence, we stare at each other for a few long seconds. Looking at me wearily, he stands up. He is tall and lean and looks striking in this attire. He rolls his left sleeve down quickly, but I notice the edge of the Dark Mark anyway.

"Potter." His voice is flat.

"Malfoy," I say... And _pounce_.

**

"Malfoy," he says, and he is on me. Grabbing me around the waist, he grips my jaw with his other hand, crushing my lips so hard that they surely will bruise. He is teeth and tongue and the taste of alcohol. Growling into my mouth, he catches my lower lip between his teeth, biting down. _Fuck_ , _that hurts_.

I wrench my mouth away. "Are you drunk, you savage?"

"Shut up," he says, digging his fingers into my lower back, sliding them down to cup my arse. I take him by the hips, grinding against his erection.

He begins unbuttoning my shirt, but then, impatient, rips the fabric open, tearing the buttons off. He _is_ drunk.

 _"Ah..."_ He exhales, latching his lips to my neck. Goosebumps are rising over my skin. He is unhinged and wild, and I want it. Want it all.

Turning me around, he wrenches my shirt out of my belt, splaying his palms over my stomach. I feel the hard ridge of his erection pressed into my arse. He walks me forward, until my thighs hit the desk. His hands leave my stomach, and I hear the _click-click_ of his belt unbuckling. I wait, leaning against the desk on my palms, until his hands tug at my belt, opening the buckle, jerking my trousers and pants down. I feel the press of his cock against my skin. Breathing heavily, he stills.

"May I?" he whispers.

"Go on," I say, tilting my arse back, "no, wait." I turn to him. "Open your hand." Grabbing my wand from the desk, I conjure a handful of lube right into his palm. "Will do." I turn back, leaning on my hands.

He exhales shakily, and I hear the faint sounds of him lubing his cock up.

"Come on," I urge him, "gently."

He lines up and pushes. He is _thick_ and doesn't care for ‘ _gently’_ , shoving it all the way up in one sharp motion. I need to catch my breath, but he doesn't let me, beginning to  pound into me with full force. _Fuck._ I grip the edge of the desk, gritting my teeth not to cry out. I don't know why I’m not stopping him, what is there for me in it, but I squeeze my eyes shut and take it: the pain, the burn, everything. I suppose, I wanted Potter really badly to stop him now, even if it hurts. Which is the dumbest, the most harmful thing to do, I know. No one should do it. I'm doing it anyway.

Potter is so wound up that it doesn't take him long. He comes with a stifled cry, pressing his forehead into my nape, his breathing hot on my skin.

He leans into me, resting his palms on top of my hands on the desk. "Did I hurt you?"

"No." I lie. I don't need him to know my fucked up issues. "Did you like it?" I ask, extricating my hands from under his, standing upright. I feel his limp cock slips out.

"Yeah...it was... I mean." he exhales behind me. "It's a bit of a shock, you know, but..." He gives a strained laugh.  I feel his fingers on my upper arms, stroking up and down while I do my flies. "But I did, yeah... I liked it."

I buckle my belt, turning to face him. No matter what he says, his eyes are scared. I can't blame him; his world has just turned upside down.

"Why, Potter?.. Are you freaking out?" I look at him up and down. His shirt is ridden up, and his trousers are around his knees.

"No... ah... yeah, a bit, I suppose." He utters a nervous laugh. Tugging his pants and trousers up, doing his flies hastily. There's panic in his eyes.

"Shhh, it's okay." I pull him closer. "Come here." I wrap my arms around his back and squeeze. "There's nothing wrong with it." I rest my chin on his shoulder. "It's perfectly okay."

Unmoving, he stands stiffly for a few seconds, then I feel his arms wrap around my shoulders.

I should be very careful with what I say. If he bolted out now, I'd lose him for good; and I really want to keep him.

"Malfoy, I... I know I'm not gay, it's just… whatever it is," he whispers.

"Yeah, it is _whatever it is_." I agree, circling the spot between his shoulder blades with my thumb. "Whatever it is, it's okay, you don't have to name it."

"I mean... I think I noticed guys before, but... I've never..."

"I know. Don't worry." I press my nose into his neck, breathing him in. He smells so good, I definitely want to keep him.

"I think I should go," he says, pulling back to look me in the face.

"Yes," I say, releasing him and taking my jacket. "See you, Potter." I wink at him and head to the door. "You know, I like you better without glasses," I throw over my shoulder, not looking back, though I'm dying to.

**

**III**

_Fingers walk your thigh_

_Breathe my love, get high_

_And oh, I'm so scared, oh, I'm so scared_

_It's just for tonight_

_So I take a sip,wait till it hits_

_That liquid guilt is on my lips_

_I'm wasted on you_

_[Troye Sivan, 'Too Good']_

_London_

_16-29 May, 2005_

For the next two weeks we are fucking like animals. When we are not in the field, he is having me against every flat surface of our office. And in the Ministry toilets, and in the DMLE Gym showers a few times, and even in the supply closet down the corridor - just once, I swear.

He never bottoms, I don’t complain, allowing him to do to me whatever he wants. I'm taking it, and he is insatiable, as if every next time is our last. It's as though he's been unleashed, finally letting go, allowing himself to be whomever he always wanted but was scared of to be. It looks like he sheds every mask and pretence with me, and that’s what really gets me. He is driving me wild, I've never met anyone like him. I think I'm becoming addicted to Potter, which is the worst thing that could happen to me, I know. If I go on like this, I'm setting out for having my heart broken. I don't seem to care. _Idiot._

At the end of the fifth day - Friday - we leave the Ministry together. Once in the back street, I grab his arm, Apparating us to my flat. Here, without danger of being caught, without haste, we take each other’s clothes off completely for the first time. He is whispering some nonsense about how beautiful I am, while I am riding him slowly, maddeningly dragging it out, not wanting it to end, until I can bear it no longer and see stars.

"Do you want me to go?" He asks, blowing out the stream of smoke. As it turns out, we both acquired this disgusting Muggle habit. I take the cigarette from his fingers, leaning back into the pillows.

"Don't you have to go home?" I ask, bringing the cigarette to my lips.

"No."

"How so?"

"Ginny's not home for another week, so..." He says quietly, staring ahead. This is the first time he's actually acknowledged his relationship in front of me. I mean, I know he's dating his Weasley-girlfriend, who doesn't? But we don't talk about it. We don't talk much at all.

"Suit yourself." I shrug, handing him back the cigarette. I'm fucked if I show how eager I am for him to stay.

He stays the night, and we go for it again in the shower. I press my cheek to the tiles, feeling his teeth at my nape, as he is pounding into me. I cry out as his teeth close around my skin, and he laughs.

"I'm hurting you," he whispers into the back of my neck without a hint of regret in his voice.

"Yes." I nod giddily. I'm high: on him, on his intensity, on everything that is happening between us.

"Do you want me to stop?" He presses his forehead into my nape.

"No." Hurt me, hurt me all you want, as long as you are doing it, I don't care - I stop myself from saying. I feel exposed and vulnerable and powerful at the same time. I know full well, I attain that power for as long as he doesn't know how deeply I'm falling.

Neither of us is able to come so soon again, but we are doing it anyway, just for the sake of it. It's a bit painful, but I don't care. It's not about coming for me right now. I'm high on the moment, on the pain, on _him,_ on everything.

In the middle of the night, I wake to the feeling of his lips at the back of my neck. I lie still. He nuzzles his way down my back and trails my spine with his tongue back up again. I'm spent and worn out, but I can't help myself, I take it as many times as gives it.

"Eager, are we?" I mock, turning my head to look at him in the moonlight.

"I want you." He straddles my legs, sliding his palms up and down the back of my thighs. The tip of his hard cock pokes my skin.

I wiggle my arse up. "Go on."

He looms over me, lining up, and slips inside. We've done it so many times in the past few hours that lube is no longer needed.

He winds his arm under my neck, pressing me back into him, and begins to move. I expect it rough and fast, but it is slow and sweet. He is rocking in steady rhythm, touching, brushing my prostate relentlessly, and I feel my cock is hardening, filling out.

"Do you like it?" He whispers into my hair. "Faster?"

"No..." I exhale. _“No.”_

My pleasure is simmering, building up so slowly that it drives me mad, but I don't want it faster. I almost don't want to come ever - for it to never end.

"Just like that," I whisper, turning my head to the side to touch my lips to his.

"Yeah... just like that," he repeats, gliding his palm down my side, squeezing my hip, "come for me."

I am full to bursting, and I am _close._ As soon as I touch my cock, flicking my palm over the head only a few times, the wave washes over me. Pulsing inside and out, I come, moaning into the pillow, and this sweetness is unbearable.

He thrusts a few more times, not making any sound, and I feel the pulsing of his cock inside. He collapses on top of me, gathering me in his arms, pressing the full length of his body to mine, and exhales shakily. He's never been this gentle before. It is always hard and fast for him, about bringing himself off as soon as possible. Now _this,_ as though he wanted to give me pleasure, not thinking about himself. I don't know what to make of it. I don't know if I could be trusted not to say anything stupid right now.

"You are crushing me," I say instead.

"Sorry." He rises on his arms, pulling out carefully.

"I need the loo," I say, getting out of the bed. I need some space right now.

"Mmm..." He yawns, turning on his side. "Come back."

Closing the door of the bathroom, I lean on my hands against the sink, looking at myself in the mirror. I'm glad it's dark in the bedroom, for I wouldn't want him to look me in the eyes.

Next morning when I’m brushing my teeth, he comes up behind me in the bathroom. Touching gently the back of my neck, he frowns. "Sorry."

"What?"

"It's bruising hard, where I’d bit you."

I take a little hand mirror from the shelf, turning my back to the sink, and look into it. There, from the base of my neck up to the hairline, is a huge angry bruise around the teeth mark. It blooms red and purple against my pale skin.

"It's nothing." I shrug. "I'll heal it in a minute." I don't mind the bruise, but not because it's 'nothing'. It’s not _nothing._ I want to keep it. It's stupid of me, I know, but I want to keep his mark. I'm getting sentimental.

When he is brushing his teeth, I go to the bedroom, casting a concealing charm at the bruise while he isn't looking.

Potter stays the weekend. And every night of the next week. After the work, he just Apparates to my flat.

I told him I had included his magical signature into my wards, so he’d be able to pop in whenever he wanted, just in case.

At work our partnership is going perfectly well. Weasley is bewildered. "I appreciate you're making the effort, mate." I once heard him saying to Potter.

We get along, we no longer fight, we actually fit together. This is funny, I think. Probably, we should have fucked long ago?

**

_London_

_Friday, 27 May, 2005_

"Gin arrives today, so..." He says, not looking at me. It's half past six in the evening, and we are waiting for the lift down to the Ministry Atrium.

This morning, he woke up in my bed, he could have told me then. We spent all day together in town, going around, asking the witnesses for our investigation -  he could have told me, not afraid of being overheard or anything. Or during our lunch break in a small Muggle pub, tucked away somewhere in Central London - he haven't mentioned anything either. He is telling me _now_ , when we've been about to go to mine and have dinner (I’d picked the wine he likes), or so I thought, for obviously he didn't think so.

"No problem." I shrug. I want to rage and punch him in the face. I don't have the right, do I?

The lift door slides open, letting us in.

He says nothing. We are standing in the long silence, only the two of us in the middle of the descending cabin. I mean the three of us: he, I and the image of his woman, whose impending arrival turns me into nobody in a blink of an eye.

The lift stops, doors sliding open. _'The Atrium,'_ female voice announces, and we step outside.

"Look..." He says, as we head to the main entrance which is connected to the Diagon Alley. We are still walking together - though what's the point? There's nothing between us left of what's been there just a few words before, a few minutes ago.

"She's staying for the whole week, for more actually, till the end of the next week-end, so..."

"I said it's _fine_ , Potter." I roll my eyes. "Don't be dramatic. Really, I've been going to take a break myself. I'm getting a bit tired of this, you know."

"Okay." He says warily. He doesn't like it. Doesn’t like the words and my tone. But what he can do? He doesn't have any right to be dramatic either.

"See you, Potter," I say lightly, heading down the steps. I feel sick.

To hell with it. Not looking back, I turn on the spot, Apparating to Wiltshire.

**

"Hi, Gin." I wrap my arms around her. She is small, and the top of her head barely reaches my chin. I missed her. I mean... at the time I thought I didn't, but now I know - I missed her.

"How are you doing?" She plants a kiss on my chin. She is all freckles and sunshine; she is so pretty, it hurts me to look at her right now. Guilt is weighing on me, I feel dirty. I disgust myself. I hate Malfoy. How in hell did I think it's nothing and doesn't mean anything? I betrayed what we have with Gin - our trust. Threw everything to the wind, and for what? I'm sick. I must make it up to her.

I squeeze her in my arms. "I missed you."

At night, making love to Ginny, I can't shake off the feeling that something is lacking. I mean... I don't know...everything is alright, but... that drive and spark and intensity that make me go wild with Malfoy, are just missing.

To hell with Malfoy, I don't want to think about him. I make up my mind to break this affair off with him on Monday.

**

_London_

_Saturday, 28 May, 2005_

"Why, Draco... don't you like it here?" Mother asks, looking around the restaurant.

We've already made our orders, and I like it, I fucking like it here. I just don't like _Potter_ here, sitting with his ginger girlfriend not far from us. Honestly, of all the places in Muggle London, we just had to meet in the same freaking restaurant. That's why I offered to go somewhere else as soon as they've come in.

"Not much," I say, "these rose bushes are getting on my nerves."

I'm not joking: rose bushes in gigantic flower pots are scattered all over the restaurant. Potter with the Weasley-girl are sitting partially obscured by one of them. Potter reaches over the table to take her hand, bringing it up to his lips, and something clenches in my midriff. This display of tenderness is a rare gem in his behaviour towards me. It is mostly hard and savage between us. He manhandles me roughly, he almost never kisses me without bruises; he _wants_ me to bruise. Do I compare myself to the Weasley-girl, really? I am pathetic.

"If you insist, dear." Mother sighs, and I stand up when Potter turns to look in our direction. He stares at me for a few seconds, his girlfriend's hand still near his lips, and then he notices my Mother. He releases the hand, carefully putting it down on the table, and it looks just ridiculous. Saying something to Weasley, he stands up and heads in our direction. _Fuck_. I sit down.

"Draco, what's the matter with you?"

I don't have a chance to explain, because Potter is near our table. He is sporting a blue blazer jacket and a white shirt over well fitting trousers. He looks ridiculously attractive, the bastard.

"Good evening, Mrs. Malfoy." He offers his hand and Mother takes it. He barely nods in my direction. "I've just come by to say hello. How do you do?"

"Everything is all right, thank you, Mr. Potter," Mother says, "would you like to join us?"

Oh fucking _no!_ _No way._

Seems like Potter is thinking along the same lines, because he vigorously shakes his head. "No, no, thank you very much. I am here with my... fiancée... having dinner. I'll just... go back to her. It's been a pleasure to meet you." He backs off.

_Fiancée._

I stare ahead. Well, what did I expect?

"Draco, are we staying or are we leaving?" Mother's voice snaps me out of the stupor.

"Leaving." I stand up. We are fucking _leaving._

**

_12, Grimmauld Place, London_

_Sunday, 29 May, 2005_

"Are you seeing someone?"

My eyes snap open and my heart gives a thud. I turn on my pillow to look at her over my shoulder.

"What?"

I've heard perfectly well what she said, I just... I need to take a breath, really.

Ginny is standing by the bed in my T-shirt that reaches to her knees. She has that look on her face, the one I know: whatever is coming, I'm not going to like it.

"Are you seeing someone?" She repeats.

"Why, Gin?.." I'm trying to sound bewildered, I don't know if I'm succeeding.

She comes around the bed to stand before me. "Get up." She grabs my hand.

"What? Where?.."

"I said get up!" She tugs at me roughly. Now, that her face is close, I see she is furious. I obey, getting out of the bed.

She pulls me in the direction of the bathroom. There we stop in front of the mirror, and she grabs my contacts container from the shelf, thrusting it into my hand. "Fucking put them on and _look_."

Still not getting what's going on, I fumble with the lenses, blinking, adjusting them in my eyes.

"Okay?" She says and turns me around, gesturing back at the mirror. I look over my shoulder.

I'll kill him.

I'll fucking _kill_ him.

There, at the back of my neck, the obvious lovebite is blooming purple - a mark of lips and teeth. And another one, between my shoulder blades. _Fuck._

Not saying a word, Ginny walks out of the bathroom.

"Gin..."

"Fuck... I can't _believe_ it." She crosses the bedroom and opens the door, heading to the staircase. Following her, I grab the bathrobe from the hook and throw it on.

"Gin."

 _"What?!"_ She whirls around on the landing, her face murderous. "What, Harry?! Do you have something to say?!" She shouts.

"I'm sorry, Gin... it's..."

"Oh, fuuuck!" She runs down the stairs to the kitchen, slamming the door.

Taking a few steadying breaths, I follow.

When I enter, she is sitting with her back to me, her legs tucked beneath her in the chair. I approach, placing my palm gingerly on her shoulder.

She recoils. "Don't touch me."

I sit down next to her, staring ahead. I'd rather not sit across the table, I don't want to meet her eyes.

"Are you seeing her, or was it a one-off?"

"One-off," I whisper. Honestly, it's easier to go along with a lie right now, for the truth is so bewildering I hardly believe it myself.

"Fuck, Harry..."

"Gin... Gin, I'm so sorry... it won't happen again... just don't leave me," I whisper. I hate myself, I hate myself.

"Do I want to know the details?" She asks.

"No... No."

"Was it a prostitute, or did you just hook up with someone at the bar?" She says lightly.

"Gin, please..."

Not looking at me, she stands up. "I'm going to visit Mum and Dad. You'd better stay here." She leaves me at the table.

I wait till she is gone and go upstairs to dress. When I Apparate into Malfoy's flat, it's empty. I check the bedroom, the living room, the kitchen, the bathroom, even the balcony: the bastard is not here. I settle down on the sofa to wait and murder him when he returns. After two hours of waiting, pacing, leafing through the _Prophet_ , the bastard isn't returning still. I’d met him with his mother at the restaurant, probably he's spending the weekend with her. Swearing, I leave the flat.

When Ginny enters the bedroom, it's two in the morning and I'm awake, having been checking time every five minutes.

I sit up in the bed. "Hi."

Beginning to undress, she doesn't reply. Slipping under the blanket at the far side of the bed, she turns her back to me. But when I move close to lie behind her, wrapping my arm around her shoulders, she doesn't shrug me off. We lay like this for a long time, neither of us falling asleep.

**

_Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire_

_Sunday, 29 May, 2005_

The sunset is breathtakingly beautiful, sky blooming pink, red and gold over the hills, up to the horizon. I always loved this spot. When I was a child, it was _my_ bench, under _my_ oak-tree at the top of the hill.

"Why are you here, Draco?" Mother asks beside me. "I mean, I am glad to see you, but I can tell something is bothering you, and you find your escape here, as you always do."

My first urge is to deny it, but there's no point. Mother knows me too well.

"Yes, there is something," I reply.

"Would you care to elaborate?"

"No. I'd rather not talk about it right now."

"All right," she says. I love this about my Mother: she never presses the point if asked not to. "Tell me about your transfer, how does it go in London?"

Seems like I absolutely have to talk about it, one way or another.

"Not bad. Once I knew who my team-leader is, I thought it would be a disaster. But it had turned out better than I expected."

"And who is it?"

"Weasley. Ronald Weasley."

"Oh... does it mean you are close to Mr. Potter as well?"

_You have no idea._

"Well, yes, he's my partner, actually."

Mother turns to me, raising her eyebrows. "I see... why didn't you tell anything? Yesterday at the restaurant I noticed, he barely acknowledged you. Do the two of you get along?"

"Yes, we get along just fine."

Honestly, can I have a moment of peace? I came here _not_ to think about Potter, not to sit moping in my flat alone, where everything reminds me of him now. I'll see the fucker tomorrow at work anyway; give me a rest, Mother, will you?

"I think I should go to bed early tonight." I stand up, offering her my hand. She takes it and stands up, linking her arm through mine. We head down the hill.

**

**IV**

_Too good to be good for me_

_Too bad that that's all I need_

_Too good to be good for me_

_Too bad that that's all I need_

_All I need_

_[Troye Sivan, ‘Too Good’]_

_DMLE, the Ministry of Magic, London_

_Monday, 30 May, 2005_

The office door bangs open, making me jump. I turn with a case-folder in my hands. The look on Potter's face is murderous. Slamming the door shut, he waves his hand, making the air shimmer with a Silencing Spell that is settling down.

Striding towards me, he wrenches the folder out of my hands, throwing it down at the desk, and grabs the front of my jacket.

"What _the fuck_ do you think you are doing?" He hisses in my face. He is unshaven, there are dark circles under his eyes, and the way he is staring at me… honestly, it's as though he's poised to kill. I have no idea what has pissed him off. I don't look away. He can storm and rage, I'm sure he thinks he's very intimidating. I've ceased to give a fuck; it's not by those tantrums he is able to hurt me.

"Nice to see you, too, Potter." I lift my chin, leaning back against the shelves. "I cannot tell I missed you, to be honest."

Looming over me, he releases my jacket and slams his palm against the shelf next to my head.

"I'll fucking kill you, Malfoy. Ginny saw your lovebites on my back. You left them where I couldn't see and didn't tell me. Did you do it on purpose, trying to fuck my relationship up?"

Actually, _I did_. I did it on purpose - not telling him. I remembered they were there on Friday when he told me she was coming back. I don't know why exactly I didn't tell him. I wanted her to find out, I suppose. It's cruel, I know. It's not her fault the bastard is cheating on her; I can’t help myself.

"I don't give a fuck about your relationship, Potter." I push him off me and head to my desk, sitting down. "It's not my fault you are cheating on your girlfriend." I leaf through the folder. I _do_ give a fuck. I give every fuck about his relationship. The image of him kissing Weasley's hand has been eating at me ever since.

"I'm _not_ cheating!" Potter shouts at my back.

Rolling my eyes, I turn to him. "If you say so..."

"I'm not cheating," he repeats, running his palm over his face, "I am confused. You made me."

This makes me laugh. "I made you suck my dick? I see..." I stand up. "You were so enthusiastic, I didn't suspect I was forcing myself on you. _‘Let me suck you, I want you to come in my mouth.’_ I imitate his tone. "I see, it was _pretend_ , I _made_ you." Crossing my arms, I lean against the desk.

"Shut up! Shut your dirty mouth!" In a few strides he is in front of me again, his hands clenched into fists.

"This mouth is dirty with your come," I say evenly, holding his gaze, though I feel my hands are beginning to tremble. I clench them into fists, tucking them deeper under my armpits. I see he is about to strike me.

When he brings his fist towards my face, I am ready. I grip his wrist , blocking the blow.

Everything is going to hell, and I made it. Maybe I should have told him about those lovebites, so instead of fighting we'd be fucking right now, or he would just kiss me and that would be enough.

Too late.

We stare at each other in silence. Such hatred in his eyes I haven't seen since school. I hate him, too. I hate him so much right now that I don't understand how is it even possible to feel what I feel towards him - _the other thing._

He is breathing heavily, and my own breath is calm and even; maintaining facade is the only thing I'm good for.

He wrenches his wrist out of my grip, stepping back.

"Enough.” He shakes his head. “I'm done. _I'm done with you_.”

"Alright." I shrug. "Now, with this out of the way, I have a work to do." I turn my back to him, sitting down at my desk, and open the folder again. My hands are shaking.

The worst thing about it is that if he came up now and hugged me and asked me to forgive him, I think that I would. I'd let him, shedding the last shreds of my dignity.

I hear the sound of the opening door, and then he slams it shut so hard that probably it's dislodged from the hinges.

I am a fool.

**

_London_

_31 May - 5 June, 2005_

"Thank you for your cooperation, Mrs. Wright," I say to the witness, "we may contact you again during the course of investigation."

"You are welcome, Auror Potter." The elderly lady shakes my hand.

Descending the steps, I cast a Shrinking Charm on the folder in my hands, tucking it into the inner pocket of my uniform jacket. Now back to the Ministry. _Merlin,_ it's only eleven in the morning, and I am already exhausted. Since our row with Malfoy yesterday, I feel like shit.

This morning, when I came to the office, he was nowhere to be seen. Waiting for him to enter any minute, I was bracing myself for I don't know what - for a shitty day in his presence, I suppose. I admit, I fucked up yesterday. I feel a pang of guilt. Perhaps I shouldn't have behaved the way I did, shouldn't have said those things, but he pissed me off, didn't he? I lost my control around him, as I always do. The bastard was so freaking calm, how does he do it? I rage and stomp my feet like a freaking orangutan, and he's made of stone.

Malfoy hadn't shown up. Then at 9.45 Ron came in to inform me that I am to investigate on my own today: Malfoy took a break for the rest of the week. I must admit, I was relieved.

The rest of the week at work is mostly uneventful. Having been left alone in the office, I suddenly realise how I've got used to Malfoy's presence, and I not only mean fucking. Actually, having him around was fun. He's witty and smart and easy to be around when his bite is not directed at you. He could have made a good friend, if he were a friend-material. This is funny, I think, how I realised it only after having been fucking him for weeks. Maybe we should have tried friendship at first? Too late for it now.

Things with Ginny are a bit strained. She looks at me warily; we barely talk when we are alone. I hate myself for having caused her this pain. We've been to the Burrow several times, and there she turned into her usual self: laughing a lot, laughing with me, talking to me as though nothing has happened, until we were on our own again. We don't make love, I am afraid to ask.

The worst thing is that I actually miss Malfoy. I know, I should commit to my relationship, to right the wrongs that I caused to the woman I love, and I do, I suppose. But Malfoy occupies my thoughts constantly: his touch, his smug face, his ironic smirk, his blond head on the pillow, his body pressed to the tiles beneath mine, the way he gives himself completely with wild abandon, and yet he is so independent, always doing as he pleases. He belongs to no one, and I've become addicted to him. _Fool._

To my shame and dismay, I even wank in the shower to the memories of Malfoy riding me with his head thrown back, his neck and chest flushed. I disgust myself. But I cannot help the feeling of moving through the grey fog of my daily routine, where all colours are taken away by Malfoy, as though he's attained them all, as though the only brightness is the one around him. I even dream of him once: he is sitting high up in the skies, straddling the rainbow, laughing, dangling his feet in the air, winking down at me to where I'm looking up at him from the deep hopeless pit.

**

On Friday morning Ron barges into my office. "Reminding you that Hermione arrives today, mate. We are going out, tell Ginny."

Hermione has been in New York for a month now, with her special Healer Training Program.

"Okay, great!" I say with enthusiasm I don't really feel. I mean, I'm looking forward to see Hermione, sure... It's just I don't want her to notice something is off between me and Gin. I don’t want her to ask questions. And I've never been good in concealing those things from Hermione.

**

Gin is making an effort with all her might to have fun and be her usual self. I think she is succeeding. Not so sure about me, for Hermione's been throwing me _looks_ all night long. We are in a Muggle club, having arrived here after dinner at Ron's favourite _"Sickle & Galleon" _ on Diagon Alley.

I'm a bit drunk, and for the first time in week I actually feel good. I'm watching Gin dancing under the flashing lights, her fiery hair flying around her. Maybe it will all work out eventually, I think, when Hermione sits down beside me at the bar.

"How are you doing, Harry?" She leans closer to me to be heard over music.

"Great." I grin at her. "How's New York?"

She rolls her eyes. "I've already told you at dinner, were you listening?"

No, I actually wasn't. I was busy thinking how Malfoy always had a supply of Chilean Carmenere at home after I told him it's one of my favourite varieties. I was thinking about it, because Ron ordered it at dinner - the very same one I told Malfoy I favoured the most.

"Harry?" Hermione waves her hand in front of my face. "Where are you?"

"Sorry." I grin at her. "I guess I'm tipsy."

"Is everything all right? I've noticed you were not quite yourself at dinner." _Here we go._

"Yeah, it's... perfectly fine, yes."

Ron flops down next to me at the other side. He takes the glass of fizzy water out of my hand, downing it in one go. "Thanks, mate, you saved my life." He hands the glass back to me. "Bloody _hell!"_

"What?"

"Fuck me, it's Malfoy!" Ron points to the right, and I follow his movement, my heart thudding.

All the blood rushes to my face, I try with all my might not to give myself away. I think I already know what I am about to see. There, at the edge of the crowd on the dance floor, two men are intertwined in a passionate kiss. The one is gripping the other around the waist, tilting his head back; and the other one... the other one is Malfoy. He is clad in leather trousers and a black T-shirt. He is devouring the man's lips, groping his arse, grinding their hips together.

I don't know... Something is rising in me, something possessive and sharp and angry. "Did you know he's bent?" Ron says in my ear.

"No," I say, unable to tear my eyes away from where Malfoy's lips are latched to the man's neck.

_Fuck. Oh, fuck._

I run my hand through my hair, standing up. "I'll go to Gin," I mumble, heading to the dance floor.

Coming up to her from behind, I slide my hands around her waist, leaning down to touch my lips to her neck. She turns in my arms, putting her hands on my shoulders. "Hi!" She is smiling, really smiling at me when we are alone for the first time in week. I think maybe it's partly because we are both a bit drunk, but also because things between us are actually turning for the better at last.

I turn us around again and again, walking her backwards and to the right... Because, apparently, I'm and idiot and cannot fucking stop myself, can I?

"Ouch!" Someone yelps when Gin collides with people behind, they turn... and we stare at each other.

Malfoy is hanging off an extraordinarily tall dark-haired man, having thrown his arm around his neck. The man is gripping him around the waist, almost lifting him off the floor. Malfoy is wearing makeup: thick black eyeliner is smudged around the edges, his cheekbones and forehead are dusted with shimmering stuff. I gape, I’ve never seen him like this before. It is weird and catching and is doing something to me. His hair is styled to stick on end at the top of his head. What I've taken for a T-shirt from the distance, is actually a transparent black shirt with rolled up sleeves. It's open all the way down almost to the belt buckle, revealing the hard plane of his chest and taut stomach. He's concealing the Mark, as he always does. I almost forget it's there most of the time. Jealousy is eating at me, he's never shown me this side of himself. And now he never will.

" _Helloooo,_ Potter!" He exclaims gleefully. Fuck my life, he's drunk, very. Ginny gapes at him.

"Potter, meet Tristan." He pats the man's cheek. "Tristan, this is my Auror partner Harry Potter with his _fiancée_." He makes a wide gesture with his hand. "And Tristan is my... - he is with me tonight." He finishes cheerfully. Resting the back of his head against Tristan's shoulder, he studies me with narrowed eyes.

"Nice to meet you, guys," Tristan says in a deep voice, "but we are already leaving." He looks down at Malfoy. "Are we?"

"Yes, absolutely!" Malfoy exclaims, hugging Tristan around the waist. _"Come on baby, play me like a love song..."_ He giggles. "It's been a _delight_ to meet you, Potter. _Mrs. Potter_! Cheers!" He shouts over his shoulder as Tristan is pulling him away.

**

"Why didn't you tell me that Malfoy is your partner?" Ginny asks from the bathroom.

Pulling the T-shirt over my head, I stop mid-movement. "Er... I don't know... didn't think it matters, I suppose."

Taking the clothes off, I head to the bathroom. Ginny is in the red fluffy bathrobe, brushing her teeth in front of the mirror. I stand beside her, removing the contacts out of my eyes. She turns to look at me, and I can almost feel how wheels are turning in her head. Sliding the glass door of the shower-stall open, I step inside.

"You’ve never even mentioned he's there at all," Gin says around the toothbrush in her mouth.

"I don't know... I forgot, I suppose." I slide the door shut and turn the water on. It sounds ridiculous even to my own ears, 'cause everyone knows: whatever happened, never in my life was I able not to notice Malfoy.

"As well as you forgot to mention he's your partner?" Obviously, Ginny is thinking along the same lines.

"Yes?" I turn my back to her, stepping under the spray. My heart is racing and I am glad she cannot see my face.

"For how long he's been your partner?"

"Three weeks." I lather shampoo into my hair.

"I've been here for a week already, and you've completely forgotten to mention that you spend every day with Malfoy?"

 _Shit._ "You didn’t talk to me much recently, Gin. Was I supposed to - what? - start telling you about Malfoy out of nowhere? Why does it even matter?"

"Because it's an extremely unnatural thing for you to do, Harry. And, besides, we met him with his mother at the restaurant a week ago, why hadn't you mentioned it then? Surely you remembered he's your partner."

I'm trapped. "What do you want me to say?" I am rinsing shampoo out of my hair.

"Truth?"

 _Oh fucking hell_. "What truth? What are you talking about?"

"What's going on, Harry? Why have you been concealing from me the fact of having Malfoy around you every day, and been doing it so neatly that I indeed would have never suspected?"

 _Oh, Merlin. Now what?_ I switch the water off and step out of the shower. Grabbing the towel, I begin to dry my hair.

"I have no idea, what's this about Malfoy, but for some reason you are lying to me, Harry. And this is not your first lie recently." She heads out of the bathroom, shutting the door.

When I emerge to the bedroom sometime later, she is already asleep, or is pretending to be.

**

**V**

_Scared my love, you'll go_

_Spend my love, heart broke_

_So my love, don't show_

_Scared my love, you'll go_

_Too good to be good for me_

_Too bad that that's all I need_

_Too good to be good for me_

_Too bad that that's all I need_

_All I need_

_[Troye Sivan, 'Too Good']_

_London_

_Sunday, 5 June, 2005_

I pour myself some more wine and sit back, propping my feet at the table. It's very good: white, dry, crisp, cool, exactly for my liking. Gentle saxophone music is swimming through the open door to the balcony where I'm reclining. My flat is on the 20th floor, and now, once the night has fallen with the lights switched off, I feel as though I'm suspended in the air. Night breeze is caressing my face. Down below and far ahead, as far as an eye can see, millions of shining dots of the city lights are shimmering, turning into a sparkling ocean in the dark. London. I inhale deeply. I always loved heights, there is such freedom to them. Since early childhood, my favourite entertainment was to climb the highest tree of the Manor grounds, observing the world below. Moments like this make me absolutely and utterly happy, all by myself. I need no one. The night air is sweet with summer and longing. No, I'm done with longing. I'm doing well.

This morning I've been to the Manor.

"Happy Birthday, my dear." Mother hugged me, handing me a small present box. The mechanic watch - is what she had given me. Simple and elegant, on the black leather strap, Muggle. I loved it. I told her once that I wanted something like this: just a watch, without magic. I put them on, she linked our arms, and we headed to the Gallery. There we stood, as the portrait of my Father voiced his congratulations with my 25th birthday. It is my third birthday like this. Father had passed away in Azkaban three years ago. Even as a portrait he's keen on reminding me of family duties. He wished me to marry well and settle down, finding my happiness in a woman I'd love and a family we'd beget together.

"Thank you, Father," I said, as always. He wished me well, in his own way. He wouldn't understand. There's no point in telling him.

Mother had taken it well two years ago. After the Father's speech, once back in the parlour, tired of pretending, I told her that I am gay, always have been and it wouldn’t change. She wasn't at all surprised. "I think I always knew that you were different, Draco. I wish you happiness in whatever you wish to find it, dear." Yes, just like that. I love my Mother.

I've seen Pansy and Blaise today. They were determined to drag me to the club tonight, but I refused, I wanted the evening for myself.

From the thoughts of the club my minds drifts to Tristan. He was good, really good, more than, actually. Sipping wine, I smile to myself. On Friday night I was utterly pissed. He took me home and fucked me into the mattress. I don't remember a half of it, but I kind of liked it. Yesterday morning, I woke up in his bed hungover and sick. Apart from being gorgeous, he turned out to be a decent fellow, taking care of me, bringing me hungover potions and breakfast. He offered me to stay, so I did. We spent the whole day doing nothing but fucking and hanging around naked. He was really nice. He made me feel good, he made me _forget._ Maybe I'll call him next week.

Taking a sip of wine I'm staring into darkness, when a loud _crack!_ somewhere inside my flat makes me jump. I grab my wand from the table.

Footsteps are slow, uncertain along the music. _Fuck_ . My heart racing, I put the wand down. Taking a deep breath, I let it out. I don't know what has made him come here, but I know _what_ he is here for. And I'm going to give it to him, he only has to ask.

 _Honestly,_ I am such an idiot.

Footsteps approach and stop and then retreat in the other direction. I hear the door of the bathroom opens. Now he's about to check the balcony. I think maybe it would be better to pretend I'm not home? But music has already given me away. I close my eyes. The footsteps stop for a moment and then step out on the balcony. I don't turn around. If the music wasn't playing, I am sure he'd hear the sound of my heart. To hell with it. I know I've already agreed. To everything.

"Wine?" I ask, looking ahead.

"Yes, please," he replies quietly.

I stand up, finally turning to him. It is dark, but my eyes have adjusted long ago, and I see him well, outlined against the pale wall. Taking the bottle from the table, I pour into my glass some more, handing it to him.

"It's white," I say.

He takes a sip. "It's good.”

"Sure. It's Sauvignon Blanc Marlborough, New Zealand," I say, as if it matters. Turning around, I go to stand by the railings. Saying nothing, he joins me. We stand like that for a while. I feel him staring at me. Finally turning to him, I take the glass out of his hand and down the remnants in one go. I head to the table and put the glass down.

"Look... Malfoy..." He begins as I approach him.

"Shhh..." I say and stop right in front of him. "I don't want to talk." I grip his jaw, pulling him close, and he _dives_ for it, grabbing my face with both hands, growling as his lips collide with mine. Frantic, he is pouring kisses onto my cheeks, my nose, my eyes, my forehead, everywhere, and only by an immense effort of my will I stop myself from howling. He wraps his arms around me, squeezing me so hard that my spine cracks, kissing my neck, my ear, the side of my head.

" _Malfoy..."_ he whispers into my neck.

I am shaking. He could kill me right now, and I'd let him.

I walk him backwards to the door and into the room. He stumbles, catching himself at the back of the sofa. I wrench at his T-shirt, pulling it over his head and lean down to press my face into his chest, with a growl inhaling his familiar scent that I've become so addicted to. I feel his hands running through my hair, he lifts my face up to kiss me again, he is unshaven and his kisses bruise. I welcome it, welcome it all. We tear each other's clothes off and I pull him down with me on the carpet. I spread my legs, and he lodges himself between my thighs. He whispers something, and I feel lube drips from his fingers onto my stomach.

Exhaling shakily, he slips inside, and I wrap my legs around his hips. He thrusts, and I buck up, meeting his movements. He pins my hands above my head, interlacing our fingers.

"Kiss me," he whispers, bending down, and I kiss and bite and bruise. I want to leave marks, I want him wearing them for the world to see, want everyone to know that _I_ had left them, that he let me. I want to be the one allowed to leave my marks openly on his skin. I know it is never going to happen. So I’ll take whatever he gives me, getting drunk on these droplets, getting high on what he doesn’t give, pretending to myself that he does and never letting him know, leaving to myself that tiny path of escape.

He is picking up speed, and my cock trapped between our bodies is dragging up and down with his every move. I arch, crying out as it hits me, spilling over his stomach. He is not far behind. I feel the pulsing of his cock inside me as he moans again and again, burying his face into the crook of my neck. He gathers me in his arms afterwards, holding me close to his chest.

“Malfoy, I...”

“Shhh... don’t speak.”

I know what he is about to say – that he is sorry. I don’t want to hear it, I don’t need it. What I need, he isn’t capable of giving.

The night is young, and in no time he wants me again. He is moving above me as I press my forehead into the carpet, getting my face burnt.

"I missed you," he whispers behind me, and I feel the touch of his teeth at the back of my neck.

" _Aah._.." I let out, biting my lip, it is swollen and tastes of blood. I bruise everywhere.  

Of course he missed it. Otherwise he wouldn't have been here. I bet he never has it like _this_ with Weasley.

I can't come again, and he barely can, and it's dragging out endlessly. It is still not enough.

Later, leaving him on the floor, I go to the kitchen to uncork another bottle of wine.

"Come to bed," I say, waving the bottle at him, "I've got enough carpet burns on my face."

He stands up, following me to the bedroom. Switching the bedside lamp on, I throw the duvet off the bed.

We don't bother about the glasses, taking swigs in turns directly out of the bottle.

I go to the bathroom and stare at myself in the mirror under the bright light. The side of my face is red with the carpet burn, my lower lip is torn and swollen, blood drying in the corner. There are fingertip marks etched above my collarbone, and my eyes are haunted. I am aching inside and out. This is my real face, I think, around him.

"Fuck..." He is staring at me in the mirror from the doorway. "Fuck, I'm sorry." He comes close, putting his hand on my shoulder. "Let me heal them."

"Leave them," I say. I don't mind the bruises, not these ones anyway. And those that really hurt, the ones that make my heart bleed, he is unable to heal. I'll make sure he never knows they are even there.

I see his eyes for the first time since he's come tonight. They are as impossibly bright as ever, lighting up his strong features, softening the look of his brooding heavy eyebrows. There's something in his face that hasn't been there before, something that tells me he's not leaving any time soon. Determination, perhaps? To play it all out, to live it through until the end, to wreck the world down and look what would happen to us among the ruins. I am not going to stop him. If anything, I'm spurring him on. _Fool._ Just wait until he stomps on your heart again. No doubt he will. It's just the matter of time.

He winces, lowering his eyes, and leans down to touch his lips to my shoulder. We are not going to talk about it. We are not here to talk.

"Come on." I move to the shower stall, sliding the door open, and step inside, he follows. Under the hot spray he kisses every mark, every bruise that he caused on my body. This is so tender, so different to what he usually does... I close my eyes, letting myself drown. He is stroking my back, pressing his face into the crook of my neck, and I tighten my arms around him, letting water wash away everything except for this moment between us.

"Fuck!" He exclaims as I'm towelling myself in front of the mirror.

"What?"

"I've forgotten to remove my contacts."

"So eager for it, were you?" I mock, watching him reach into his eyes to perform that disturbing procedure.

We don't sleep tonight. He takes me again and again, until we are both spent and delirious, until there is nothing left, until it hurts, until it’s hurting endlessly. "Let me," he whispers again and again into my skin, as though he can't get enough of me, and I _let_ him. I deny him nothing. We finish the bottle, though it's not on the wine I'm drunk.

"Ride me," he says, wincing, as I touch his cock. It is red and raw and overstimulated, erection doesn’t wilt down. Neither of us has come for hours, I bet it's painful for him, too. We go for it anyway. I am riding him slowly, barely moving on his lap, it's not going anywhere, he doesn't mind. In the end, he pulls me down to lie on top of him, wrapping his arms around me, stilling my movements. " _Shhh..."_ He says, stroking my hair, and I tuck my head under his chin, lying still, listening to his heartbeat under my ear. I think only a second passes, but when I jerk awake on top of him, dawn already begins to slip through the window. He is breathing quietly, his head lolled back on the pillow. Gingerly, I slide off him, lying down on my side. I am cold and my whole body aches. I tug the blanket from under me, covering us both. Propping myself on the elbow, I look down at his face in the dim light. I am never allowed to look at him as long as I want, so I take _this_ . His features are pinched, his large nose stands out and the swollen bow of his lips looks cruel and arrogant from this angle. I touch it with my fingertip. He smiles in his sleep. _Oh, Potter._ How am I to recover from _this_? Hugging him around the waist under the blanket, I tuck myself into his side and close my eyes.

**

**VI**

_I take a sip_

_Wait 'til it hits_

_This liquid guilt_

_Is on my lips_

_I'm wasted on you_

_Wasted on you_

_[Troye Sivan, 'Too Good']_

_London_

_6 June - 29 July, 2005_

"I should go," I say.

Looking down into his mug, he nods. "Yes."

My skin is stretched taut over my face. My head is splitting in two, and coffee isn't helping.

He looks a fright: the circles under his eyes are so dark against the pale skin, they look like bruises. His lips are swollen, and there is a mark of my teeth at the side of his neck, my fingertips etched all over his chest in purplish prints. This is what I've done to him, and he let me. I can't look away.

"I've hurt you," I say. He looks up. His eyes are so transparently-pale, they always seemed to me made of ice. I always found it difficult to look into them.

"I'm sorry. Does it hurt?"

"It does," he says quietly, holding my gaze, "don't apologise." He touches my hand over the table with his fingertips. "Now go, or we'll be late."

**

When I enter the office at 9.00, Malfoy is already there. He turns to me, and I see he looks as groomed, tidy and buttoned up as ever. His skin is smooth, hair styled neatly back and to the side. There's no hint of bruises on his neck above the collar of the jacket. He's got rid of my marks. I feel a pang of _something_ , it's stupid. Surely he can't parade them around at work.

"Hi." He winks at me, and I exhale in relief. I dreaded it would become stiff and awkward between us.

"Hi." I smile back, approaching my desk and sitting down. And just like that - the silence is comfortable, the words are not needed.

"We have to be at Mrs. Wright's in an hour," I say, shuffling the papers around my desk. He doesn't reply. I look up and catch him staring.

"What?"

"Nothing." His eyes are full with mirth, looking me up and down. He _smiles_. And I see his mother in him: Narcissa from that old photograph. Childish joy is bubbling in me, threatening to burst out in a bout of giggles. I haven't felt this happy for quite a while.

"Nothing, I see..." I smirk, and he rolls his eyes.

"Honestly, Potter... how we’ll manage to get any work done?"

The door bursts open with a bang and we jump. People are pouring inside, I don't know any of them. Everything happens in a blink of an eye: something explodes above our heads, showering Malfoy with shimmering sparks that are fading not quite reaching his skin. His face is bewildered, and there is still a half-open folder in his hands. Bright red letters form in the air: _'Happy Birthday, Draco!'_ with _'25'_ below. Applause explodes around the room as a giant birthday cake swims through the doorway in the air.

_What?_

Malfoy stands up. "Wow! Thank you guys. Thank you!"

He is shaking hands with people. Their uniforms are dark-blue, just like ours. The only difference is the pin in a shape of the letter _'E'_ at the front of their jackets. We wear _'L'_ \- for _'London'_. That's when I guess it has to be his former Edinburgh team.

A blonde girl jumps at him from behind, hugging him around the neck. He turns.

"Juliet!" He lifts her off the floor, spinning her around, and her feet are dangling. "Thank you!" He plants a kiss on her cheek, and people are cheering, clapping him on the shoulder, obscuring him from my sight. And I sit at my desk like an idiot, at a loss what to do.

**

"Why didn't you tell me today's your birthday?" We are walking out of the Ministry.

"Not today. It was yesterday," he says.

"Why didn't you tell me yesterday?" I insist, "I didn't know...I would..."

"Oh, come on!" He turns to me in exasperation. "You would _what?_ Buy me a present? Take me out for dinner? Don't be ridiculous." He heads down the street..

"I..."

He's right, of course, there's no place for this when we sneak around on stolen time, but his words sting. "I would have at least acknowledged it."

"Don't bother, Potter, it doesn't matter."

 _Potter._ "Would you at least call me by name?"

"No."

"Why?"

" _Because._ " He wiggles his eyebrows. "Come on, we don't have all day."

**

The way I feel this summer… I think, I could call it _'happy'_ . If not for... Well, _if not for_...

Not for the fact that it's _Potter_ whom this feeling relies on, not for the fact that this is doomed from the beginning, not for the fact that - the fool that I am - I've fallen so deeply that there's nowhere further to fall.

He tears down all my defences, always demanding more, as though nothing is ever enough. I live in that weird state of suffocating in his intensity, and suffocating without it at the same time. How is this even my life?

With all my might I try to hold my walls up, to give myself some space, not to share every last piece of me, holding it close to my chest. He tries to own everything, until nothing of me is left. As though having my body is not enough, as though he would not give it a rest until I offered my heart on the platter. _When the Hell freezes, Potter._

That is why I don't let him call me by my name, that is why I don't share things like my birthday. These are the last shreds of me intact. How am I supposed to gather myself back when the time comes, if I give everything away?

I don't know what's in it for him, why does it even matter. He comes to me for something he can't have with the woman he says he loves. His heart is taken, so why does he need to consume mine? I suppose, it's his greedy nature.

I have no idea what's going on between him and the Weasley-girl, except for that they are still together. He never elaborates. I don't ask questions, I just _don't._ And what's the point, anyway? He is with me - until he isn't.

She's absent for every two weeks, and I thrive. Potter is _mine_ to do as I please. He spends every night in my bed.

Then she is back home for a week. That is her Quidditch schedule. And Potter commits to his relationship, I see him only at work. I try to go on not giving a fuck. I try not to mope, not to feel as though I am holding my breath, waiting, starving for him. I fail. This is the very thing I always dreaded would happen to me. Now, that it's happening, I am savouring it, basking in his attention as though it were sunshine. _Fool._

I took him out a few times to Muggle gay clubs, and he liked it. He said he'd never been to such places before and they are absolutely wicked.

"You are so _damn hot_ in makeup," he whispers into my ear on the dance floor, "I'd have you right here, in front of all these people." He squeezes my arse. "For everyone to see that you are _mine_."

"I'm not _yours,_ Potter," I say archly, leaning back to look him in the face, "I am no one’s." _I am yours. I am yours even though I don't want to be, even though it's killing me. But I am yours._

"Are you sure?" He cups my face, smudging my lower lip with his thumb. I am wearing scarlet lipstick, and it stains his skin. He licks at his thumb deliberately, looking me in the eyes, the bastard. "I'd rather make you _mine_ , and mark you, so no one will _ever_ lay a hand on you."

I am wildly turned on. My heart thudding, I grab the end of his belt and turn around, leading him as though on a leash. " _When the Hell freezes_ , _Potter,"_ I throw over my shoulder.

I lead him out of the dance floor and around the bar, pulling him into the one of the dark alcoves along the wall. Seeking my lips, he presses me into the wall, but I push into his chest. " _No_. I want you to suck me off," I say, "on your knees."

"On my knees?"

" _On your knees_ ," I repeat.

He slides down, kneeling on the floor in front of me. " _Anything you wish, Draco."_ Bastard.

"Don't call me that." I lean back against the wall.

"I call you however I want, _Draco._ " He is unbuckling my belt.

"No, you _don’t_." My breath catches as he swallows me down. I slide my fingers into his hair, caressing his temples, trying not to thrust into his mouth, careful not to choke him.

He bobs his head, moving his hand up and down along the base in accord. He's become good at it. He sucks, and I throw my head back. " _Yeah..._ don't stop."

He doesn't stop, going faster, sucking harder, and in no time I am coming, coming down his throat, and he is taking it all.

Later that night in the shower, he turns my face to him under the spray of water. "Let me?"

"What?"

"Wash it clean," he says, and there is a cotton pad in his hand. Gently he touches it to my eyelid, wiping eyeliner off. With a flick of his fingers he vanishes the pad and conjures another one and repeats, wiping my eyes, my lips, my cheekbones. Then, sliding his fingers gently all over my face under the spray, he washes the remnants off.

"There," he says, " _there you are_." And kisses me, tender and feather-light, all over my face.

In the moments like this it stings the most. I am used to take him rough and hard and laugh in his face and mock him in this game tug-of-war. It is this tenderness that is my undoing, for it makes me defenceless, it makes me feel as though he genuinely _cares_ ; and I cannot allow myself indulge in that.

**

**VII**

_The Burrow, Ottery St.Catchpole_

_Saturday, 30 July, 2005_

"... start a family, don't you think?" Molly's hushed voice reaches my ears; I stop in my tracks.

"Mum," Gin says wearily.

"It's about time, dear..."

 _Oh, Shit._ I lean with my back against the wall near the kitchen door. _Parents._

"Mum, don't start that again."

"Look, you are young, healthy, and so is Harry. I know you are keen on pursuing your career, but you'd catch up with it in no time, once you had a baby. You know you can count on me, Ginny."

"I know, mum... But we haven't talked about marriage with Harry yet."

I close my eyes, sliding down the wall. Actually, we _did_ talk about marriage with her. Just not recently. It was long ago. Long before Malfoy had come and fucked up my life. _Fuck._ It's been almost two months of whatever it is between us. The two wildest, terrifying, feverish, happiest months of my life. I have no idea where it's going. And neither does he, I suppose. But he's got nothing to lose... and I... I can't stop anyway. Can't stop until all the hell breaks loose around us, burying underneath my life as I know it.

 _Gin..._ She is so dear to me. I'd take the Killing Curse for her to my chest, not thinking twice. If I weren't a coward, I'd give her honesty she deserves and beg her forgiveness, and let her go. But I am weak, I wouldn't bear if she left me. She is everything I thought I ever wanted from life: the epitome of love and happiness and family, and yet... And yet, now, _I don't know_ whether this is what I really want.

 _Malfoy.._ . I cannot bring myself to break it off with him either, though I know I will have to eventually. _Just not yet._ I can't. I can't get enough of him, and it's getting worse. He's become... _something_ to me, what - I don't want to examine closely. There's no point. To him all this is just a game, as it was supposed to be for me once, but has gone out of hand. He is enjoying himself, the bastard, he needs no one. It's so frustrating, it angers me so... I want to break through his walls just to prove the point. I have no idea what I hope to find there. I want him to acknowledge me, I suppose, to make him reveal if only a glimpse of _something_ that I can connect to. He doesn't let me. He is evasive and fluid and slips like water through my fingers, leaving my hands full of air each time it seems to me I actually grasped something. I rather hope he has no idea how badly addicted to him I've become.

Carelessly, not giving a fuck, he has ruined every last fortress I've always considered my concept of life to be built around. Turned everything to dust. I know nothing.

"Harry! Why are you sitting here?" Arthur is looking down at me. The murmur of voices in the kitchen stops.

"Just..." I wave my hand vaguely.

Gin is standing in the doorway, looking down at me. She is so tired, I suddenly realise. Suddenly I see that there is very little of the Ginny I know left. It's as though the veil has been thrown over her brightness. I know it's my fault. Things have never been the same again between us since the day she had noticed those lovebites. In the moments like this I hate Malfoy with all my being, for this look on Ginny's face, for our silent home. Though I know it's hardly his fault that I'm such a shit, unable to be honest with the woman I love. If anything, I could have rejected him. _Oh, could I?_ I already miss him badly, and it's only Saturday. All this is so fucked up.

Gin is rarely home. And when she is, we are growing apart with every minute. I have no doubt, she knows I'm keeping a secret, and she knows I know she knows. There's this wretched understanding between us: don't ask, don't tell.

I should tell her the truth that I am not the man she knew. I'm someone else, and it's hardly going to change. I am not the one who's able to make her happy. I should tell her; I know I won't.

"Harry! We've been talking about your birthday tomorrow." Molly sticks her head around the door. "Why are you sitting here? Come, I need your opinion." She grabs my hand, pulling me up. There's a big party here tomorrow, Molly and Arthur insisted. A half of the Auror forces are invited.

"Roasted lamb or pork for the main course, Harry? Or both? What do you want?"

 _Oh, Merlin._ What I do want right now is to Apparate to Malfoy's flat and cease thinking.

**

_Too good to be good for me_

_Too bad that that's all I need_

_Too good to be good for me_

_Too bad that that's all I need_

_All I need_

_[Troye Sivan, 'Too Good']_

_The Burrow, Ottery St. Catchpole_

_Sunday, 31 July, 2005_

"Thank you, Molly, thank you so much," I say into the top of her head. Honestly, I don't deserve this family.

"Mate! Harry! Come here!" I look up. Ron waves at me among the group of people. Patting Molly on the back, I release her to head across the lawn. Hermione catches up with me, linking her arm through mine.

"It's so nice here," she says, "I love this place."  

I look down at her luminous face. They've been married with Ron for two years now. Their happiness is showing in every little thing. Once I thought we would be like this with Ginny.

We join Ron and fellow Aurors on the lawn, and I am shaking hands and laughing and saying _thank you, thank you, thank you,_ when my eye catches a blond head at the edge of my vision. My heart stops. I turn.

He is standing alone, a bit to the side, holding himself awkwardly, as though he's uncertain whether he should be here. He's wearing smartly fitted grey trousers and a dark-green blazer jacket over a white shirt. Short tufts of his hair are styled in casual disarray. He stands out here. I feel uneasy.

Observing people with a neutral friendly expression on his face, his gaze stops on me. Slowly he nods, giving me a small smile, and I am suddenly terrified. Terrified that he’s come to my family to ruin me, my life, everything.

"What's _he_ doing here?" I blurt, addressing no one in particular.

"Who?" Asks Ron by my side.

"Malfoy."

"I invited him," Ron says.

_What?_

"You? Why?"

"Er... I mean, why not? You asked me to deal with co-workers. Like... he's your partner, isn't he? Like, you are getting along?"

"No."

"What? You fought again?"

"No, I mean..."

"You don’t want him here? What's the matter, Harry?"

"No, Ron... it's fine, just... give me a second." I make my way to where Malfoy is standing.

"Hi, birthday-boy." He smiles, raising his glass at me.

"What are you doing here?" I lower my voice.

"I've been invited," he says, his smile doesn't waver.

"We need to talk," I say, glancing around. Seems like people don't pay us much attention. Ginny is talking to Ron with her back to me. "Come on." I head around the lawn in the direction of Arthur's shed. He follows a few steps behind.

Entering the shed, I turn. "So?"

"So?" He replies, putting his glass down at the table by the wall.

"So why have you come here to my family?” I hiss. “Do you want to fuck up my life even more?" I am angry, how doesn't he understand?!

His face doesn't change even a little bit, it's just I know him well enough to notice how his eyes widen the tiniest fraction.

"As I said, I've been invited," he says quietly, briefly touching his fingertips to his temple, as though brushing off an invisible speck, "and I wanted to give you this."

He makes a movement with his right hand, and I see he is holding a small present box. "That's all. There's no hidden meaning to it." His voice is even and he looks at me calmly, but something is off. I don't care. I don't want him here, I am afraid of him here.

"I think you should better leave," I say. I know I'm being rude, and maybe he really means no harm, but I don't want to deal with it _here_ , in the Burrow, _right now._ With Ginny present, and Arthur and Molly and all the family - there's no place for Malfoy. "I don't want any inconvenience to happen. We'll talk tomorrow."

"As you wish." He frowns, staring down at the box in his hands. He worries his lower lip with his teeth, and I know everything is terribly wrong. He opens his mouth to say something, but then reconsiders. Not looking at me, he puts the box carefully down on the table and walks out.

**

"Harry, what's this about Malfoy?" Ginny asks as soon as we step out of the Floo into our living room _. Oh shit, not that again_ . I feel sick. I'm fed up with those questions, with _Malfoy-Malfoy-Malfoy._

"What about him?" I open the liquor cabinet, peering inside.

"Why were you and he sneaking around?"

 _Oh, well._ Looks like I need something strong at the moment. I take the bottle of Firewhisky.

"I wasn't sneaking around, what are you talking about?" I pour a generous amount into the glass.

"I'm talking about the two of you, hiding in the shed in the middle of the party." She comes up, taking the empty glass. I pour her some, too.

I take a sip, the burn going down my throat.

"We weren't _hiding._ We needed to talk about some... work stuff, didn't want to be interrupted." Fucking hell, _why, oh why_ did Ron invite him?

 _“I think you should leave. I don't want any inconvenience to happen,”_ she mimics my voice, and I want to cover my face. "What is that supposed to mean? What's going on, Harry?"

"You were eavesdropping?!"

"Yes. Does he blackmail you or...  do you... do drugs together? Does he _sell_ you drugs?"

"What?!" I laugh in disbelief.

"Then what, Harry? _What?!_ You haven't been yourself for a long time! Something's happening, I'm not an idiot." She downs her glass in one go, coughing, catching her breath, and takes the bottle again.

I look down into my glass. This is so obvious, I have no idea how doesn't she manage to put two and two together, when everything is staring her in the face. This is the perfect moment to confess, to tell her everything and be done with it. I can't do it. I don't want to lose her. Perhaps I've lost her already, but that final step that would destroy the last pretence holding us together, is impossible for me to make. I look up. She is staring at me. Meeting my eyes, she winces and brushes past me to the Floo. She grabs a handful of Floo Powder from the jar on the mantel and throws it in, calling Ron and Hermione's address. Not looking at me, she steps into flames and is gone.

**

When I Apparate in, Malfoy's living-room is dark. I head to the balcony - he is not there. The kitchen, the bedroom - he is not there. Switching the bedside lamp on, I sit down on the bed, propping myself against the headboard, and wait.

A half an hour passes. I'll sleep here if need be, I am determined. I take the present box out of my pocket, turning it in my fingers. I haven't opened it, I am returning it. As another half an hour passes, I take the lid off to peer inside. There's another box, plain and black. Taking it out, I open the lid. A watch. Simple-looking and elegant, on the black leather strap. Identical to the one Malfoy wears.

"This is a nice surprise." Malfoy says from the doorway, and I look up. He is leaning against the doorframe in his clothes from the party, jacket folded over his forearm. I put the box on the bedside table and stand up.

"Malfoy, I -" I begin.

He cuts me off sharply. "Do you want to fuck?"

"What?"

"You used to come to me for a fuck. I assume that is why you are here." Voice steely, he throws his jacket at the back of the armchair.

"No," I say. This conversation is not going how I intended.

"Then get out," he says, coming to the bedside table and unfastening his watch, "I am not in the mood anyway." He looks down at the open present box and then looks up at me. "So, either way, you have no business to be here. _Get out_."

I came here with a fucking speech that I'd made a decision to break up with him, and instead he's throwing me out. How in hell does he do it?

"I'll get out in a minute," I say, "I just want to tell you something."

"I am not interested, Potter, in your pathetic reasoning as to why you should dump me and not offend your _fiancée’s_ sensibilities. All this is wildly boring." Tucking his hands in the pockets of his trousers, he turns his back to me, staring out of the window. "Get out of my face."

"Oh no, _you don’t!_ " Grabbing his arm, I whirl him around. "Don't you dare to say things about Ginny."

He wrenches his arm out of my grip. "I'll say whatever I want. What did she say to you by the way? I met her on my way out of the shed."

"It's not your fucking business," I spit, feeling Firewhisky spurring on my anger, "why do you _always_ meddle with people's lives? Why _the hel_ l had you even come to the Burrow, you bastard?!" I shout, he winces. "What was your purpose? To embarrass me? To blackmail me?!"

" _Blackmail?"_ He says faintly, his eyebrows shooting up. "You are such an _arsehole..._ "

"What was I supposed to think seeing _you_ among my family?!" Honestly, he pisses me off. "Had you thought for a second that your presence would be inconvenient to _me?!_ No, you fucking hadn't, 'cause you wouldn't _understand!_ "

"Oh, wouldn't I? Try me," he says bitterly, looking away. I have no fucking idea what's that supposed to mean, I don't care, I am fed up.

"No, you fucking _wouldn't._ I _love_ Ginny. What do _you_ know?"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighs. "Let me get this clear, Potter. You _love_ her - this is why you come to _me_ to have me however you like, to fuck your brains out?"

“You don't have a relationship, you have _nothing_ to lose," I spit. How doesn't he see that it's not that simple?

He is leaning against the wall, completely still, with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Nothing," he repeats.

"Nothing."

"You are so fucking _blind_." Shaking his head, he looks away.

"And you are a heartless bastard."

"Heartless?" He comes up close.

"Heartless," I repeat. He turns away, then, turning back in a blink of an eye, he sways his arm, delivering the blow right into my chin. I stumble backwards.

"Get out, Potter. _Get out!_ " He shouts, flush burning on his cheekbones. "I'm _done_ with you!"

**

I am standing still, listening to his footsteps in the living-room, the sound of Apparition. Silence. Looking down at my right hand, I exhale shakily  and spread the fingers out. The swelling is already forming. I rather hope I've broken a few of his teeth.

_Happy Birthday, Potter._

My gaze lands onto the open present box at the bedside table. I approach, taking the watch out. Mother's birthday present gave me the idea. I like my watch, and I thought it would be cool to give Potter an identical one. I remember my anticipation when I was choosing it. Without engravings or anything; their identical look was supposed to be the message on its own. Not vulgar, not sappy, not over the top, and yet something significant with a hidden meaning. Perfect. I wanted to give it to him privately at work, during our lunch-break somewhere Muggle. But Weasley invited me, so...

I take my own watch from the table and compare both closely together. There's no difference, not a tiniest bit. I put my watch back down and squeeze the other one in my hand. It is no longer needed. I sway my arm wide, hurling the watch into the wall with a growl. It falls on the floor. I come up and stomp onto it with the heel of my brogue, again and again and _again_ , until it cracks, until the glass is shattered to dust, until there's nothing left. Sliding down on my knees, I press my forehead into the wall. I am shaking. A sob escapes me. I press the back of my hand to my mouth, biting down to stifle a cry that is tearing me. Pressing both hands to my chest, I double over and rest my forehead against the wall, squeezing my eyes shut and breathing deeply. It helps to even my breath, it helps to stop howling. I sit up. My head is heavy, my eyes feel as though full of sand. I look down to where the devoured watch lies. With a wave of my hand I vanish the mess and stand up.

I press the button on the remote, putting the music on, and head to the bathroom. I peel off my clothes and step under the spray. I need to wash this terrible day off. I know it's just the beginning, the first taste before it fully hits me, before I crumble.

I am running my hands through my hair, smoothing it back under water, when the piece of music begins – the same melody that was playing when Potter came here on my birthday - and my face crumples. I slide down on the floor, wrapping my arms around myself and howl, pouring out everything I’ve been suppressing around him, until I'm spent.

Switching the light off, I climb into my bed and pull the blanket up to my chin. Then, remembering something, I jump out of the bed and grab my wand. I go through the flat methodically, cancelling the charms that allow Potter to Apparate in here as he pleases. I cast the ones blocking him out for good measure, and at the balcony, too. Done. I return to the bedroom. I toss in the sheets and can't sleep, though my head is leaden. Everything in this room is screaming _Potter_ at me. Taking the pillow and the blanket, I head to the living-room, settling on the sofa. Lying down, I wrap myself into the blanket and finally sleep.

**

Stepping into the bedroom, the first thing I see is the open trunk in the middle. Ginny is rummaging in the wardrobe with her back to me, throwing clothes on the floor one by one.

"What are you doing?"

She jumps, turning to me. "What's happened to your face?"

"Nothing." I wince. "Where are you going, Gin?"

"I'm leaving." She bends down to gather the heap of clothes in her arms and then heads to the trunk, dumping it down.

"Where? In the middle of the night?"

"I'm leaving _you_."

Grabbing her wand, she waves it, and clothes are folding neatly, fitting themselves into the trunk.

_Oh, no. No._

"No, Gin... please." I grab her sleeve. "Talk to me, we'll sort it out, _just..."_ My breath is stuck in my throat.

"I'm done talking. You never talked when I needed you to. I'm done." She tries to keep her voice from wavering.

"I'm so sorry, Gin." I try to pull her into a hug. "I've been an arsehole... _please_ , please don't leave..."

Her face contorting, she shoves me in the chest. "Don't touch me!"

"Gin... Gin... _please!_ I won't touch you, just don't leave. You know I love you..."

Her face is bewildered. "What? Oh... this is _disgusting..._ You are fucking lying to me _all the time!_ " She shouts. "I've talked to Ron." She shakes her head. "He told me that you - all of a sudden - are best pals with Malfoy, from the moment he'd been transferred here two months ago. _Two months_ , Harry! For two months the two of you go out for lunch together _every fucking day_ at work. Ron just told me, he had no idea I didn't know."

I cover my eyes with my hand.

"And I _asked_ you, Harry, how many times?! I asked you about Malfoy, and each time you just shrugged and said you forgot that he works with you? And that night I returned in the middle of the week - you said you were at the night shift... Ron said you don't do night shifts."

 _Oh my God_. That night I was sucking Malfoy off against the wall of the club. That night I was insane with desire, seeing him in red lipstick.

"I have no idea what that's supposed to mean, but you are living a life of your own which you don't want me to know about. And by now I don't even care." She flicks her wand, and the trunk clicks shut, beginning to shrink. She picks it up, stuffing it into her handbag, and brushes past me to the door. I catch her by the elbow.

"Let go, I need to pick something downstairs."

"Gin, _please..."_ I swallow. "Look at me."

She turns her face away.

"Gin... if I told you the truth - would you stay?"

She turns to stare at me in disbelief. "I think I'm afraid to know the truth, Harry. Deal with it on your own." Shrugging my hand off, she walks out of the room.

I am standing in the doorway, staring into space for I don't know how long. Then go to the bathroom. Leaning against the sink, I look at myself in the mirror. My angry-purple jaw is swollen, dried blood in the corner of my mouth. I spit red into the sink, running the tap to wash it away, and then look up into the mirror again.

_Happy Birthday to me._

**

_12, Grimmauld Place, London_

_Monday, 1 August, 2005_

I drink myself stupid, sitting on the living room floor against the sofa. Until my head falls back, until the darkness under my eyelids is spinning Malfoy's face at me: Malfoy smirking, Malfoy laughing, Malfoy pouring me wine, Malfoy riding me, throwing his head back, Malfoy looking over his shoulder, pressed into the shower wall, biting his lip, Malfoy's haunted eyes in Arthur's shed yesterday, Malfoy dancing under flashing lights, his short hair standing on end, Malfoy wearing red lipstick, Malfoy ruining my life.

_Fuck!_

I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut until tears begin running. I'm wiping them away, they are appearing again and again, streaming down, gathering under my chin.

_Oh fuck._

Malfoy's smiling face that looked almost tender when he leaned down to kiss me in the mornings. Malfoy's ruffled blond head on the pillow when he slept, exhausted after everything I'd done to him. _‘Leave it,’_ he said, when I wanted to heal his bruised neck. The small present box offered up in his hand. _‘I am no one's,’_ his mocking voice. _‘You come to me for a fuck,’_ he says.

That feeling in my chest when I wanted to tear the world in two, seeing him in Tristan's arms.

No.

Whatever it was I came to him for - it wasn't only a fuck.

I think about Gin, about where has she gone tonight: the Burrow probably, or Ron and Hermione's... or maybe she has returned to the Quidditch training base. I feel like shit, but I see clearly that it's not Gin I can turn to right now. The only person who'd understand is - Malfoy. _Fuck._

What am I supposed to do? He wants nothing to do with me. The way I spoke to him... _Shit._ It's complicated, but I need him, I need to know that I'm not alone in this. And he's the only one.

Maybe I should try to speak to him in a few days? We fought before, we made it up. Surely he'll let me back in eventually. He has to. It's not like with Gin, after all. He and I don't love each other to be mortally wounded, do we?

**

_DMLE, the Ministry of Magic, London_

_Monday, 1 August, 2005_

It's seven in the morning and the DMLE Gym is empty. I am pressing the barbell, exhaling through the gritted teeth. I aim to work myself out so that my brain ceases functioning. My chest muscles are burning, and there's almost no strength left in my arms. If I don't stop right now, I risk dropping the barbell onto my neck. Maybe it would be for the best? Breathing heavily, I slam it onto the rack and sit up on the bench, wiping sweat off my face with a towel.

Last night had taken its toll on me. I woke up at five in the morning with a headache, as though from a nightmare, knowing that reality is even worse than a dream.

I don't know how am I supposed to face Potter? How to be in the same room with him? How to look at his face? I thought I foresaw the outcome all along, I thought I was prepared.

Setting out for his birthday yesterday, I was so excited. I felt uncomfortable to go to the Weasley's home, but the thought of seeing Potter and giving him my present outweighed everything else. I missed him violently, and with the Weasley-girl at home, I haven't touched him for days. It's too risky, we hadn’t done it at work anymore, since I let him into my flat. I thought he would be glad to see me, too. I didn't count on display of affection on his part or anything... I just... I don’t know… I wanted to see him and give him my present, which had been my joy to think about for days. I wanted to please him, I suppose, to let him know with my presence at his birthday, that I am here - I'm here for him. He can count on me and that is our secret. That invisible in the crowd of his co-workers, not daring and afraid to approach his family, I am still here - for him, in silence, and the words are not needed to understand that. Maybe it was my way of giving myself away, of showing that all this actually means something to me, that _he_ means something. I certainly didn't expect such an open hostility. I thought... I don't know what I thought... But having found myself treated like shit, like something dirty that should be kept away not to offend decent folk, it finally dawned on me that all this time I was nothing more than a toy for him. A fancy toy to fuck or punch as he pleases, and play kinky games with i. I mean... No, I certainly didn't expect a declaration of love... But all this time I thought that we were sort of on the same page. Well... not on the _very same_ , of course, I’m not that delusional... But I thought that he at least saw a person in me, a fellow human being.

Stupid of me. I don't know... I think that’s because it's Potter, and one expects him to be noble by default.

To hell with it. It's over.

I stand up, heading to the power rack. Putting the barbell on my shoulders, I begin to squat.

When I emerge from the Gym showers, my whole body has turned to jelly and my mind is blessedly blank. I look at the clock on the wall: half past eight. I have a half an hour to dress and pull myself together.

When I enter the office at nine o'clock, Potter is not there. Good. I actually dreaded to see him outright. I sit down at my desk. He'll barge in any minute. Slowly, I take a deep breath: in and out and repeat. At ten o'clock Potter is still absent. A folder lies open in front of me which I've been staring at for the past hour. I stand up.

I knock on Weasley's door briefly, opening it. "Hi!"

"Hi, Malfoy." He looks at me oddly. "Come in."

"No... I mean, I'm setting out for the investigation in ten minutes. Potter hasn't come yet. Is he ill or something? Should I wait for him?"

"Er... yeah. He's just contacted me and called in sick for today. Don't wait for him." Something's off to Weasley's tone, but whatever.

"Okay," I say, beginning to close the door.

"Malfoy!" Weasley calls. "Wait!"

I stick my head back into the room.

"Is everything alright? In your partnership with Harry, I mean. And in general?" He asks. What is that supposed to mean?

"Fine, great," I reply, "brilliant. Never better."

"Are you sure?"

"What do you mean?" He obviously implies something, doing it not very subtly.

"Nothing!" He says cheerfully. "Nothing, you may go."

"Okay." I close the door.

The whole day without Potter seems a relief. And then what? Eventually I have to face him. I don't want to. _I can't._ I can't bear it. This is so fucked up. How can you hate a person down to your guts and go weak at the sight of them at the same time? What hurts the most, iis that I considered him to be a better person that he actually is. This rotten feeling is poisoning me, making my mind go in circles, I don't recognise myself. To recover from this I need a change. A change.

Taking an application form from the drawer, I write.

**

_12, Grimmauld Place, London_

_Monday, 1 August, 2005_

Having woken up with my face smashed against the cushion, I barely manage to look up. Squinting, I peer at the clock. _Fuck._ I've slept in my lenses. The time is 9.45. Abruptly I  sit up, almost falling off the sofa. _Shit._ I get up, heading to the Floo and call Ron's Ministry address.

"Ron? Kneeling on the carpet, I peer into his office.

"Harry? What the hell?" Ron's legs in dark-blue uniform trousers swim into view, and then he kneels in front of me. "I thought you were in your office, what's going on? Where are you?"

"I'm home... actually, Ron... I wanted to call in sick for today. Don’t feel well."

"What's the matter?" He leans closer. "Are you hungover?"

"Yeah... a bit," I say.

He says nothing about Gin. He doesn't know.

"Been celebrating after the party?" He grins.

"Yeah... something like that." I stop, taking a deep breath. "Look, Ron... something's actually happened last night."

"What?" He frowns.

"Look... we... Gin and I... we broke up." My throat squeezes on its own accord, it is suddenly hard to breath.

"What? Are you serious?" Ron's eyes go wide.

"Yes. And she left."

"Where?"

"I don't know... she hasn’t told me, probably back to work."

"But... why? What happened?"

"It’s just... she decided to break it off." I utter. It physically hurts to say it out loud.

"Why?.. actually... Gin acted weirdly recently," he says, "yesterday after the party, she came to me asking stuff about your work, about your shifts, Malfoy... what's going on?"

"I..." I don't know how to put it differently - this undignified truth. I am tired of pretending, I'm not good at it. "The thing is... Ron..." I look down at my hands not to meet his eyes. "I've met someone..."

"What? You mean... you've been _cheating_ on her? Are you serious?"

"I've been seeing someone... when she wasn't home...like...an affair." I look up.

Ron's face is bewildered, such disbelief is written across his features - it hurts. It hurts to think how he never ever doubted me. I've lost Gin, I'm about to lose Ron.

"And she had found out... eventually... and she couldn't stay. And she's right."

"Harry..." Ron shakes his head.

"I'm sorry, Ron... I'm so fucking sorry. I didn't deserve her."

"Who is it?"

"I... can't tell you."

“Hmm.” He nods. "Does Ginny know?"

"No... I don't think so."

"Are you seeing her still?"

"It's... no... not anymore. We broke it off."

I look him in the face again. He is frowning.

"Ron, I'm so fucking sorry... if I lose you, I don't know..."

"Okay, Harry. Take a break today. I have to think it out." He ends the connection.

**

_London_

_2-7 August, 2005_

Next day I take a break for the rest of the week. I just need this time for myself. Also I am anxious of facing Malfoy again. I am wildly ashamed. I decide to leave him be until Monday and then talk to him. I don't know what can I possibly say to make up for my behaviour, for those words that make me cringe when I remember our fight. But we'll sort it out somehow, we have to. He's cool around me, usually he doesn't give a fuck. He doesn't care, so I can't hurt him that much. He's probably having Tristan this week, fucking his brains out.

Thoughts of Malfoy with other men drive me insane for some reason. Thoughts of his body writhing in pleasure under some faceless man chase my mind in circles. Images of him being cool, playful and mischievous around someone who is not _me_ , make me restless and anxious, make my possessiveness flare alert. I know I've always been clingy. I always envied those independent people who don't rely on others as a source of their wellbeing; those cool people who belong to no one; those like Malfoy.

By Thursday night I'm done with waiting. I Apparate straight to Malfoy's flat only to hit an invisible barrier which lands me back in my living-room. I try again and again, I don't give up. I try the balcony and the bathroom, and the closet even - to no avail. I don't know how the bastard managed to set the wards that hold against me better than Ministry's do, but he did.

He is still pissed off with me . I give it a rest. Should wait it out until Monday.

**

On Friday night Ron pops in through the Floo. I'm lying on the sofa shirtless, only in my pyjama bottoms which I haven't changed since morning. I am staring at the ceiling, occasionally taking a sip of wine from the glass and putting it back down on the floor, then drag at a cigarette, perching it back at the edge of the ashtray on my stomach. This is what I've been doing today. I haven't eaten since yesterday, and it's my third bottle of wine so far. I am sozzled.

"Mate." Ron is looking down at me. "You are pissed."

"Yeah..." Reaching down, I pick up the glass from the floor. Ron takes it out of my hand and lifts the ashtray away.

"Enough. Get up." He pulls at my arm. I obey, sitting up on the sofa, and run my hand over my face. My jaw is scruffy with five-day stubble.

"Here, take this." Ron thrusts a vial into my hand. "Sober up a bit."

I don't want to sober up. I am content with how my thoughts are swimming: soft and lazy, like a jellyfish, not a single sharp point that could hurt me.

"I'm good, Ron." I try to give the vial back.

"Yeah, sure. Just take the fucking potion, Harry, or I'll force it down your throat."

"Boo!.. you are very scary." I grimace, but take the vial anyway, downing its contents in one go. It feels cold and tingles down my throat, and then it tingles in my head, until it hits, like a balloon popping, and settles down. Everything clears up.

"Better?" Ron asks.

"No," I say grumpily. I feel suddenly tired.

"Come on, mate. You are going to take a shower, you stink. And then you dress and I'm taking you out for dinner. We have to talk."

"I'm not hungry," I protest, standing up, and my stomach gives a loud rumble.

"Yeah, sure," Ron says, sitting down on the sofa, "come on, you have fifteen minutes."

**

"So, I've talked to Gin," he says, pushing the plate away, "and some weird stuff came out."

 _Oh, fuck._ This isn't going to end well.

"For instance, you've been concealing Malfoy's presence in the forces from her all along, not to mention your partnership."

I am not looking at him, being very busy with cutting my steak.

"You didn't mention your fight at the training and that you had backed out of the program. She had no idea you two were kind of friendly, so she was bewildered to see him at your birthday. What's going on, Harry?"

I take a sip of wine, putting the glass carefully down, fiddling with the stem. I am trapped and so fucking fed up with lying. Perhaps it would be a relief even, to unload this off my chest?

"You are not going to like it, Ron."

"I don't like it already. Try me."

"Okay, you are going to freak out. Here it is." I take a steadying breath and look up at him. Frowning, he sits up straight in his chair.

"It's Malfoy," I say, feeling my heart in my throat.

"What's Malfoy?"

"The person I've been seeing - it's Malfoy."

Ron blinks once, twice. "Sorry?"

"I had an affair with Malfoy. That's why Ginny dumped me."

"What? You are kidding?" He begins laughing but then stops abruptly, his eyes widen in shock. "Are you serious, Harry?"

"Yes."

"But... he's a man, _like... oh, come on!"_

I nod.

"Bloody hell!"

"Yeah."

"But... you are not gay... you are..."

I shrug, spreading my hands. What am I supposed to say?

"I have no idea what I am anymore."

"So that's why... that's what happened in Edinburgh." His jaw drops. "Did you two..."

"Ron." I give him a look.

"Oh shit, I don't want to know." He raises his palms in defence. "So it's with Malfoy you've been cheating on Ginny. Bloody hell, Harry..."

"Gin doesn't know. She thinks it's a woman."

"I thought it's a woman, too... you said you broke up?"

"Yeah, I was pissed off when he came to my birthday, told him shitty things. He told me to fuck off for good."

"Maybe it's for the best, mate. He's got his transfer this week."

_What?_

"What transfer?"

"You don't know? He applied for a transfer on Monday. Yesterday the papers arrived that he is being transferred next week."

I spring on my feet.

"What?" Ron asks

"I... I have to go."

"Harry, what?.."

"Sorry, I have to go."

I stride out of the restaurant, turning the corner to a quiet street, and look around. There's no one here. I Apparate into the narrow alleyway near the impossibly tall building. I never came to his flat this way, but I know, he said it's on the 20th floor, and I remember the view from his balcony. I run, hoping I am not too late. I have to see him. If Ron hadn't told me, I would have come to the office on Monday to find him already gone. I step out of the lift, looking around. There's only one door to the side I suppose where his flat is. I come up and press the doorbell button. Everything is quiet. I press it again and hear the footsteps approaching the door. It swings open, revealing Malfoy - barefoot, in grey joggers and a white T-shirt. He flinches, beginning to close the door, but I press it open with my hand.

"What do you want, Potter?" His tone is sharp.

"May I come in?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Do you want to fuck?" His voice is quiet, but he's visibly pissed off.

"Ginny dumped me," I blurt, a familiar sensation squeezing my throat.

His eyebrows shoot upwards. "She dumped you, so you came here to fuck."

"No," I say. He is impossible when he wants to be, how am I supposed to have this conversation?

"Then what do you want?"

Honestly, I don't know what I want. I came to him for not to be alone, and he is the only person who would understand, if he weren't so difficult.

"I... I'm sorry, Malfoy, for what I said to you at my birthday."

Leaning against the doorframe, he listens.

"I thought I should apologise and... I mean... it would be really nice to have you around again, we got along..."

"Oh, really?" He says, and I don't like his tone. "You really think you can pop in any minute, and _apologise,_ and things would get back to normal? Just like that?"

"I miss you, Malfoy," I blurt, "and Ginny left, and I'm so lonely... I just want..."

"I don't give a fuck what you want, Potter," he hisses, voice cruel, "have you ever thought what _I_ want? What's in it for _me?_ "

"I thought you were fine with... how things were," I say. I don't know... something's off about him, it's not going as I intended.

"Oh, sure, as long as I was your fuck-toy - you thought things were fine."

"You are not my fuck-toy." Honestly... _what_ is this all about?

"Then what I am?" He hisses. "Retrieving me from a box when it suits you, treating me like shit when I don’t seem to be appropriate enough for a decent society."

"It's not..." I step forward, putting my hand on his forearm.

He jerks, throwing it off. "It is. It fucking _is_. If you think I am happy to run to you at your first call, you are mistaken."

Honestly... " _Draco..."_ I step closer, and he shoves me hard in the chest, making me stumble back.

"Don't call me that." His eyes are wild. "You don't have the right. Get out, Potter. I am fed up."

"Do you want me to beg?"

"No, I want you to _fuck off,_ " he says evenly, beginning to close the door again. I grip at the edge.

Grabbing my wrist, he wrenches my hand off. "This is a _NO_ , Potter. _Get out of my face_." The door slams shut.

Pressing my forehead to it, I standing there for some time. I don't know how long.

Emerging on the street, I look around, not really seeing anything. Tucking my hands into my pockets, I begin walking - on and on, turning to the right and left. I don't know where I am.

Finding myself in the park, I walk among the trees, keeping away from people. When I sit down at the lonely bench, my eyes are beginning to sting. I bite my lip, trying to stifle it, to prevent tears from falling, it doesn't help. I cover my eyes with my hand and my face crumples. Faint breeze is shuffling in the leaves above where I sit - crying among the ruins.

 ********* **The End of the Part 1** (look for the link to the Part 2 down below) *********

_**I am on Tumblr:[big-draco-energy](https://big-draco-energy.tumblr.com/)** _

 

**_ [[Troye Sivan, 'Too Good']](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zOomisnmvu8) _ **

_Scared my love, you'll go_  
_Spend my love, heart broke_  
_So my love, don't show_  
_Scared my love, you'll go_

 _Too good to be good for me_  
_Too bad that that's all I need_  
_Too good to be good for me_  
_Too bad that that's all I need_

_All I need_

_Fingers walk your thigh_  
_Breathe my love, get high_  
_And oh, I'm so scared, oh, I'm so scared_  
_It's just for tonight_

  
_So I take a sip,wait till it hits_  
_That liquid guilt is on my lips_  
_I'm wasted on you_

 _Too good to be good for me_  
_Too bad that that's all I need_  
_Too good to be good for me_  
_Too bad that that's all I need_

 _Too good to be good for me_  
_Too bad that that's all I need_  
_Too good to be good for me_  
_Too bad that that's all I need_

_All I need_

_So I take a sip, wait 'til it hits_  
_That liquid guilt is on my lips_  
_I'm wasted on you_

_Wasted on you_

  
_Too good to be good for me (Too good, too good)_  
_Too bad that that's all I need (Too good, too good)_  
_Too good to be good for me (For me, for me)_  
_Too bad that that's all I need_

_All I need_

_***_

 

**Author's Note:**

> This work belongs to the series "Fools" and is followed by the work "Talk Me Down".  
> Thank you for reading! Feel free to share your opinions with me in the comments below if you want :)  
> Tell me how you came across this fic, I'm really interested to know!


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